
I 





Class IE3_i_10i_ 
Copyright N^ 

COPYRrCHT DEPOSIT. 



POEMS. 



POEMS 



BY 

GERTRUDE LEONARD ADAMS 




EDITED BV 

M^WINCHESTER ADAMS 

Author "'Polly,' sBd other Poems," "Pathwayo, and other Poems' 



NEW YORK 

FRANCIS W. ORVIS 
1907 



[UBRARY of CONdHESSJ 
Two Copies Rweived 

DEC 19 1907 

CoByrlgst tntry 
ACOPT B. 



^c,zb^\ 



^-v 






Copyright 1907 

by 

M. Winchester Adams. 

All rights reserved. 



To 

Marie, Lois, Doris, 

Enid, Ted, 

'Little" Elizabeth and Hilda. 



Write, if thou writest but one line, 

And perchance, it may be 
Its happy thought, through endless yeaurs 

Shall live and speak for thee. 



CONTENTS. 



A Dedication For A Scrap Book 123 

A Bird's Lament 96 

A Fragment 97 

A Kindergarten Song 142 

A Lullaby 175 

A Song 93 

A Single Page 131 

A Tribute 30 

Advice 177 

Answered 126 

Apple Blossoms 199 

Aspirations 73 

After Many Days 48 

Betty Antoinette 33 

Beyond 21 

Birthday Thoughts 132 

Birthday Wishes 128 

Bonnets and Sonnets 150 

Brookside 85 

Castles 185 

Change 197 

Childhood Days 105 

Could We 163 



CONTENTS. 



Day Dreams g_ 

Dreams 

Do Not Delay ,5 

Evening Hymn ^ 

Fames Reward g:^■ 



Fancies 
Far Away 



Marie 

March 
Meditation 
Moving- Dav 



66 
90 



Forget Me Not jog 

Fragment 

Gentle Connecticut -^ 

Gtoria In Excelsis ^g 

Grandma's Treasures ,yg 

Highland Lake ,.. 

Highland Maid ,^7 

Honeysuckle Dell 

Hymn ^ 

Imagination g 

Impressions _^ 

Imprisoned g^ 

In Thought -^ 

June Is Dying ^^ 

Let In The Sunshme u- 

Life And Death jg. 

Life's Best 

Lines 

Look Up 

Love 



143 
62 

94 

~ 34 

Love's Power jo^ 

26 
133 

45 
189 



CONTENTS. 



Mt. Tom 
Music 



November 



57 
145 



My Dolly 200 

My Sailor Boy 179 

Nannette Lee 69 

Nameless Graves 84 

New Year Bells -jy 

New Year Song 201 

Nothing- Wasted 25 



127 



On Life's Sea 'j2 

Passaic Boating Song 43 

Peu-a-Peu 75 

Poetry Versus Dining 42 

Questionings 71 

Rue 83 

Selma's Violin 63 

Serenade Anita 169 

Sibyl 70 

Spring 171 

Such A Little Child 176 

Sunshine And Shadow 76 

Stilly Night 157 

Summer Roses 99 

Sympathy 29 

Some Of My Genealogy 183 

Tell Me 24 

The Answer 58 

The Waif 193 

The Blind Wisher 165 

The Bell 35 

The Bowl of Marigolds 153 

The Chimes 118 



CONTENTS. 

The Chimney Qimber 151 

The Dance loi 

The Easter Lilies 49 

The Great Musician 44 

The Jewel 51 

The Jolly Grocer 190 

The Mill 27 

The Miser 109 

The Nightmare 103 

The Old New England Homestead 79 

The Past 154 

The Pasteboard Box 173 

The Phantom Form 134 

The Poet's Inspiration 159 

The Reply 141 

The Seasons 149 

The Sleigh-ride 195 

The Spanish Maid 119 

The Two Roses 61 

The Village 161 

The Valentine 107 

The Wanderer 155 

The Winco-pipe 78 

The Wind Storm 191 

There's A Maid In The Mist 121 

Time 31 

Time's Changes 147 

To Elsie 74 

To My Father I44 

"Tots" 170 

Trudy 187 

Two Views 129 

Underneath The Clover 53 



CONTENTS. 

Violets 47 

Volunteer i8i 

Where Dwell The Gods 8l 

Wherefore 95 

Which Best 65 

Who Would You Marry 124 

Youth 98 



POEMS. 



BEYOND. 

Oh, had we strength of vision, with calm eyes 
To pierce the future, doubting never, but 
Leaning only on our own endeavor, 
And, in the courage of our souls, behold 
The far-land of the coming day ! Beyond— 
Oh, but to part the opalescent blue 
That with its wavering unsteady light 
Bewilders all. Disarm the present hour 
Of its enamoring, silvery sheen 
And let the glorious, ever changing 
Qualities of soul and brain, illumine 
Like a queen, the ever opening way! 
Heart fuses heart, and intellect may sway 
The world. The gold of Croesus hath powerj 
But never can it give to hearts the fire 



21 



BEYOND. 

Of youth. It cannot bring back wasted hopei 
That circled, Hke a fairy wreath, the brow 
Of Love. Nor will the warmth of rosebud lip;. 
Respond to yellow gold. Oh, God, what strange 
And unknown land is this, Thou callest Earth, 
Where men, women, babes and little children 
Pass to and fro, through the panorama 
Of a day, whose morrow is as distant 
As long past cycles of forgotten years! 
Wherefore are we accountable who are 
The children of vain circumstance? The past — 
What of the past ? For who, in very truth, 
Dares say 'tis stored in household of the gods, 
There to be meted out in good or ill. 
When all is o'er. The future, like heaven, 
We die to gain, may a delusion prove. 
Whose opal light of hope forever lures 
The mariners in quest of fairer lands, 
Of brighter scenes, of truer loves. Beyond — ■ 
Why care we where it leads, if in the strength 
And grandeur of our imier lives, there dwell 
But that composure, trustfulness and love 
Of man, to help attain the perfect hour 
To-day. What of the future ? What were gold. 
If hearts were all at strife ? Or what were love, 
If we forget to speak the word to ears 
That barken? Or palaces, if marble 
Halls and archways but coldly sounded back 



22 



BEYOND. 



In mocking tones our every footstep? 
Or what were plighted vows, if from them came 
Fulfillment never ? Or what were our homes, 
If from true love came not the little loves 
To gladden our lives? Or what were sickness, 
With no fond hand to comfort? Or e'en death. 
With but the grave to be our final home? 
What then is wealth ! The hour, the perfect hour 
Is now. Now is the day to live and love, 
And in the present to attain the wealth 
Of days that never can return, of days 
That are going. The future — What of that ? 
Whoso can tell? 



23 



TELL ME. 

Are our dreams but firefly fancies, 
Perfume laden of the past? 

Are our hopes but showy baubles 
That soon petish, can not last? 

Are our loved ones only idols, 

And their sweet souls merely breath? 

Is there really no hereafter ? 
Does our living end with death ? 

Tell me, then, the use of living 
Working on from day to day ? 

Ah! the soul is surely better 
Than the body made of clay! 

So I'll just go on believing. 
And my help to others give. 

Tell me what's the use of doubting 
There's another life to live? 



24 



NOTHING WASTED. 

Talk not of the June that is ended, 

Nor yet of the day that is past ; 
Talk not as if love here is wasted 

It all will be garnered at last. 

Let hope in thy heart live forever, 
Let thy love and joy be supreme, 

Let trust in thy Maker be greater. 
Make life like a beautiful dream. 

Weep not for the rose that is faded. 
Sigh not for the sunbeam so bright, 

Another will gladden the morrow 
With just as resplendent a light. 

Take courage dear heart in thy journey 
"Thy reward love's labor shall be ;" 

Be firm and life's purposeful efforts 
For good shall bear witness for thee. 

Then, when we have passed from this life work 

To the work in the life above. 
We shall know that nothing was wasted 

Neither June, nor roses, nor love. 



25 



MARIE. 

There dwells within my cottage 
By the brook and old beech tree, 

A dainty little maiden 

Who is only half past three. 

Her hair is like bright amber, 
Her cheeks like the roses red, 

Her winsome happy laughter 

Cheers my heart when day is fled. 

She sweeps the hearthstone daily 
With a dove's pale silver wing. 

Her merry song and shouting 
Make the cottage rafters ring. 

The oaken bench, so stately, 

She dusts it every day. 
The blue bowl on the mantel 

She fills with flowers of May. 

Fair Marie, dainty Marie, 

With her ways so sweet and mild, 
My merry hearted darling 

And my own beloved child. 



26 




'A dainty little maiden 
Who is only half past three." 



THE MILL. 

Far down in the hollow, under the hill, 
I stood by an old and moss covered mill, 
Its wheel, then so silent, was old and worn, 
It had ground the wheat, it had ground the corn, 
But aged and gray it was standing still, 
The waters were rushing on past the mill, 
For the useless old mill had had its day, 
And now the waters were having their way ; 
And I thought how, when we are young and strong 
We can grind the years, as they come along. 
But when we grow older, we then stand still. 
The years rush by us, as water the mill. 
For life is a mystery, deep and wide, 
That reaches from here to the other side. 
The good we've done, is the grist of the mill 
After work is over, say what you will. 
While the Master Miller with His own hand 
Will guide us safely to the better land ; 
And we know, at last, when this life is o'er 
We'll be counted one of the Miller's store. 



27 



GLORIA IN EXCELSIS. 

There lurks a poison in each cup of joy, 

A sorrow in each golden crown of bhss; 
There is a tear for ev'ry fleeting smile, 
Yet cry we : — "Gloria in excelsis," 

Death, we inhale in ev'ry breath we breathe, 
Ere we have time to learn what life may hold ; 

Great grief and bliss so closely are entwined, 
As one, they enter o'er the heart's threshold. 

There is a balm for ev'ry weary heart. 
And bitter tears for ev'ry merry eye ; 

Then let each one this lesson learn to-day. 
And praising God, be not afraid to die. 



28 



SYMPATHY. 

Oh ! it is sweet to meet a kindred soul whose heart is 
warm 
With a melodious song, that chimes in perfect measure 
With thine own, recalling half forgotten notes in the 
storm 
Of less congenial beings. 'Tis more than cold, cold 
pleasure. 

'Tis a sonnet, 'tis an anthem to the soul. 

Oh ! 'tis grand to watch the fading day if thy simple song 
Hath reached some untouched heart, and won for thee 
a single thought 
Of kindred feeling. Not for fame, but sympathy, they 
long. 
Who calmly wait the lisping echo that their song hath 
wrought, 

'Tis a prayer, a benediction to the soul. 



29 



A TRIBUTE. 

TO E. D. S. 

Oft in the long still hours of night, 
When darkness holds control, 

We think of those our hearts hold dear 
As treasures of the soul. 

There looms before us joy on joy. 

Of girlhood's happy days; 
'Tis then thy dear face comes to cheer 

The sad or darksome ways. 

And oft I wonder was it chance 
From far lands sent thee here. 

To be unto my heart as balm. 
Or music sweet and clear. 

But, no, the Maker of the world 
Has in His plan no chance, 

And this thought added to thy worth, 
Thy friendship doth enhance. 

Oft in the long still hours of night, 
I breathe for thee a prayer. 

That God, the loving Father, keep 
Thee ever in His care. 



30 



TIME. 

Oh ! Time, thou tide of human ills, 
Thy waves are hearts' pulsating thrills; 
Thy hand may stay the course of fate. 
Thy flight, oh. Time, turn love to hate! 
The young, the beautiful, the good 
Become the victims of thy mood: 
Thy power ev'ry where is shown. 
From humble cot, to princely throne. 

Who can withstand thy mighty strength, 
Or chain thee for a moment's length? 
Who bid thee stay one word to hear? 
Who claim thee friend, without a tear? 
Yet, in thy flight may tried ones find 
Comfort and grace, repose of mind. 
Mariners beg of thee a gift, 
As o'er the sea of life they drift. 



31 



TIME. 

Oh ! Time, thy stem ruling power 
Gives us each fair budding flower; 
The tiny spring of thee gains force; 
Thou bringest Ufe, love, joy, remorse; 
Each one and all must feel thy breath, 
Thou claimest all, oh, Time, with death! 
Herald, thou art of each new year 
Thou harvester of love and fear. 

All bow to thee, thou monarch Time, 
Singing thy praise in prose and rhyme ; 
All hail thee king of smiles and frowns; 
No one hath made thee wait for crowns 
That youth would place upon thy brow, 
Thou monarch of the past and now. 
Oh ! Time, thou tide of human ills, 
Thy waves are hearts' pulsating thrills. 



32 




'In your heart is sweet content, 
Loyalty and love divine." 



BETTY ANTOINETTE. 

Little Betty Antoinette, 

Sunshine lingers in your hair, 
Winsome little ocean waif. 

Your wee heart is free from care! 
On the sand you play and sing, 

Through the long bright summer day 
In the winter still you sing, 

Though the days are short and gray. 
Just a fisher hut your home. 

Who your parents no one knows, — 
Save some great white ocean wave 

On the sand that comes and goes; — 
In your heart is sweet content, 

Loyalty and love divine, 
Would I were again a child 

With content and peace in mine. 
Little Betty Antoinette, 

May the angels watch o'er you. 
May the God who guards and guides 

Keep your heart forever true. 



.^0 



LOVE. 

There's a magic in music that thrills like a kiss, 
There is joy in fond hoping that giveth rare bliss, 
There's a nectar in beauty, strong is its power, — 
But the beauty of thought will outlive beauty's hour. 

There is sorrow in fashion and pleasure in art, 
There's a virtue in good deeds that touches the heart, 
Honor, glory and fortune are but as a name, 
If the eyes of my darling but sparkle the same. 

There are days that seem perfect from cloud and from 

rain 
There are others filled often with life's sad refrain, 
There are eyes bright with pleasure, while others look 

sad, 
But the eyes of my darling are merry and glad. 

There are words sympathetic we never forget, 
There are words said in anger that bring but regret, 
But the one word of all words, where'er speech is fotind. 
Is love and its power makes the universe bound. 



34 



THE BELL. 

"On, Fleetfoot, on ! thou stalwart gray, 
Nerve ev'ry sinew to obey ! 
On ! for a life rests in thy stride, 
Ford thou the stream whose rushing tide 
Would bear thee and our lives away; 
Reach yonder town before the day 
Shall herald with its gleaming light, 
The hour of peril and our night," 

The rider spurred his noble steed 
It forward dashed with mighty speed; 
A time it held its onward course 
Fighting the river's swirling force. 
Then, losing footing, all seemed lost 
As on the surging waves they tossed; 
The rider, guiding with his hand, 
"On to rescue !" gave stern command. 

Dawn was wrapt in a misty fold. 

The gray skies bore no tint of gold; 

Peace and sereneness lit the scene 

And quiet reigned a very queen. 

The villagers had naught to fear 

The quaint old town looked brown and sere, 

But yet, the rising of the sun 

Meant death to one — his work undone. 



35 



THE BELL. 



Death to a strong man free from ill, — 
Doomed to die by a monarch's will, — 
Whose only thought had been to live 
And to the wretched, succor give. 
To better here his fellow man; 
Was thus to end his helpful plan? 
To die ! die at the dawn of day ! 
Was there of hope not e'en one ray? 

All hope lay in the rider's hand. 
For, life might still at his command 
Be saved, could he but reach th' tower 
Before the fatal dawning hour; 
And so he urged his willing steed 
Making brave effort to succeed; 
At last within the gate he crept, 
The prison gate, while yet all slept 

Save one, that one alone slept not, 
Though reconciled unto his lot. 
He prayed, thought of and blest his k>vc, 
Ere tolled the heavy bell above ; 
When, at his cell a figure stood 
Closely mantled, with priestly hood. 
Who said : — "A steed waits, haste away, 
The bell tolls at the breal< of day." 

'"Tis thou, 'tis Nicholas, thank God!" 
"Speak not ! 'tis but a single rod 



36 



THE BELL. 

'Twixt thee and liberty. Now go! 
Nor pause to ask nor wish to know 
The secret here within my breast, 
Stay not a moment now to rest, 
But, in yon cavern, by the sea, 
Await my coming and be free." 

The sunlight crept with smiling ray 
To bring to earth another day; 
The keeper woke from troubled dreamf 
To wait the day's first golden gleams, 
When he must climb th' gloomy towe! 
To ring the bell at sunrise hour. 
A moan of pity filled his breast 
For him below so sore oppressed. 

Slowly, with keys hung at his side, 
The keeper faltered and his stride 
Shortened, as he drew near the cell 
That held his son. Ah ! who can tell 
The woe, the agony and grief, 
With not one hope to bring relief. 
For there he stood 'twixt pride and joy. 
His trust to keep, or save his boy. 

He knelt outside the iron gate 
And prayed to God to alter fate, 
It seemed his reason must have fled, 
When Nicholas placed on his head 



37 



THE BELL. 

A soothingf hand and said : — "Arise, 
Look for thy son with thine own eyes;" 
He gazed as in a dream. "What gonef 
Then peace came o'er his features wan. 
* * * 

Starlight rested o'er the hillside, 
When Nicholas resumed his ride 
And journeyed onward to the sea, 
Musing on life and destiny; 
But once, he paused, to cool his lips, 
And bathe his brow with finger tips 
Dipped in a spring, then closer wound 
His priestly robe his form around. 



The darksome cavern by the sea, 

But mocked Madisko's misery ; 

So silent, cold! yet no alarm 

Or thought of self or fear of harm 

Entered her mind, that trying hour, 

While word she waited from th' tower ; 

By fortitude and courage blest 

Fond hope grew strong within her breast. 

The pine woods echoed not a note. 
Hushed was the song in each bird's throat. 
Madisko's heart gave sudden bound, 
"Oh, joy !" she cried, "the welcome so.und, 



38 



THE BELL. 



'Tis thou, my heart's best love, 'tis thou. 
But say, where is my brother now?" 
"He sent me, love, to wait with thee, 
Within this cavern by the sea." 

He took her hand, yet was he led. 

His eyes were moist with tears unshed; 

Tears fraught with joy, they ne'er should part. 

Then pressed Madisko to his heart. 

Of love he spake, then of his cell 

And how he listened for the bell. 

How Nicholas, his life did save. 

Then both rejoiced, though both were grave. 

Soon Nicholas came. With just pride 

He told Madisko of his ride; 

Then joined their hands ere rose the sun, 

Blest them and so pronounced them one. 

Then softly said: — "Oh, brother mine, 

There is a grief for thee and thine. 

Thy father died, as thou didst leave, 

With him all's well, though thou wilt grieve ; 

Yet tears may comfort and help heal 

Thy wounded heart, that, ay, must feel 

The surging of emotion deep, 

As storm stirred shore, the waves that leap 

And beat by mighty forces tossed ; 

But, hasten now or all is lost. 



39 



THE BELL. 



Quick, launch the boat, unfurl the sail, 
Haste, haste away, lest now all fail." 

The boat was launched. Upon the sea 

They struggled, toiled, at last were free 

And sought, by ship moored near at hand, 

A happy home in far off land 

Where freedom reigns. Thus, all was well ! 

Here ends the story of the bell. 

He had brave heart and steady hand, 

Who, "On to rescue" gave command. 



40 



HYMN. 

Lead me in life or death, 

To the one destiny; 
And may my ev'ry breath 

Sing praises unto Thee 

I know my ev'ry prayer 
Ascendeth not in vain ; 

That Thou dost hear me where. 
Ne'er enters sin nor pain. 

And when I sometimes stray. 
And know not which the way; 

Oh! help me then I pray 
And wash my sins away. 

Oh! fill my inmost soul, 
With love divinely pure ; 

That I may be quite whole. 
My earthly weakness cure. 

And to that home prepared. 
Oh ! may my spirit glide ; 

And may my hopes be shared 
With loved ones by my side. 



41 



POETRY VERSUS DINING. 

Just supposing I were married 
And my husband came for dinner 

And espied me writing verses, 
"Tasty viands," quoth the sinner. 

This roundelay might do as steak. 

These quick grown lines as mushrooms serve:, 
This tart and spicy six Hne verse 

Might do to tone each o'er taxed nerve. 

As sauce this piquant quatrain ought 

Appeal to him as extra good, 
And this new sonnet as dessert 

I'm sure will please him, as it should. 

But, oh, how hungry I should be 
With only viands such as these! 

I'm sure I'd say : — "Go order, dear, 
A capon and a salad, please." 



42 




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PASSAIC BOATING SONG. 

The moonbeam's gleaming 
Is o'er us streaming, 

Its silver rays enchant us as we row. 
Its gentle seeming 
Keeps us a dreaming, 

As o'er the waves we gliding swiftly go. 
Oh! fairy twilight, 
Oh ! lovely moonlight. 

Our hearts they leap to thee in merry song. 
Come join our rowing 
For time is going, 

And hills resound our echoes full and long. 
Thus as we're riding 
The flood tide gliding, 

Brings in the waters of the distant bay. 
While we are floating 
We'll sing of boating. 

And bid you join our party while you may. 
Then shout while singing 
Let voices ringing, 

Hail ! to the beauty of the oarsman's friend. 
New Jersey's daughters 
Have skimmed its waters, 

New Tersev's sons have rowed it to the end. 



43 



THE GREAT MUSICIAN. 

The Great Musician holds the earth 

A harp within His hand, 
Each soul a chord, each heart a note 

Is tuned at His command ; 
Some vibrate to the faintest touch 

As if by zephyrs fanned ; 
And some so pure, so clear, so strong. 

Respond in anthems grand; 
While all is kept in harmony 

By the Musician's hand. 



44 



MEDITATION. 

What hour is there so dear, so filled with song 
So full of memories or pleasant dreams, 
As the soft hour of twilight? 'Tis the long 
Gray shadows that kiss the slumbering past ; 
Tis the wan light that wakens footsteps dead. 
Loved words, a hope, a sigh ; they come, they go, 
As thus we meditate. What heart is there 
So sad, so full of grief, but some sunshine 
Faded and past, may over-beam it with 
Its light, lifting the mists that hide from us 
The future way, and on our onward path 
A brightness throw of perfect peace and trust 
And faith, that lights the path our feet must tread. 
Daily, we add some mem'ry to the past. 
That guards alway these cherished reveries; 
And thus, when twilight mingles with the dusk 
We count them as a novice does her beads. 



45 



MEDITATION. 



Gaining, in that hour of meditation 

Courage and strength to rise to higher thought 

And purpose, as the weird host of fancies 

Disappear and night its mantle circles 

O'er hearth and heart. 'Tis then we lift our thoughts 

In prayer, thanking the Father for the dreams 

Of life. 'Tis then the future is illumed. 

And the darksome grave its sorrow loses, 

In perfect and abiding trust ; unknown 

In daylight and unfelt. 



VIOLETS. 

Just as violets in the spring 

To earth and air their sweetness g^ve; 
Just as blushes to a maiden 

Proclaim that it is good to live ; 
So the heart gives of its loving 

From the depth of its devotion, 
Just as sunbeams glint and glisten 

On the summer sunlit ocean. 

Just as moss clings to a rosebud 

Does a maiden love her lover; 
Just as bees above the flowers 

In the summer love to hover ; 
So the violets in the wood 

Give to all the earth their beauty, 
Lifting up their blue eyes smiling, 

Saying life is love and duty. 



47 



AFTER MANY DAYS. 

After many days the ship returns 

That's laden with our heart's desire; 
Be brave, oh, ye mariners, be brave, 

Nor lose your courage but aspire 
To heights unreached ! The noble life ship 

Launched here upon the sea of time 
Must trials, sorrows, keen anguish bear 

Ere it shall reach a sunny clime 
To laden be, with those precious g^fts 

That worthy are to compensate, 
For long days and months and years that faith. 

In almost darkness, had to wait. 

After many days the ship returns 
And brings our fondest hopes ashore ; 

After storm, calm ; after sorrow, joy ; 
After long days time will restore 

Our ship unto its rightful harbor. 
And there 't will rest forevermore. 



48 



THE EASTER LILIES. 

FROM BERMUDA. 

Hark, did the lilies softly speak! 

Or was it some low, silvered song 
That from their snowy bosoms stole 

Wrapped in their gentle hearts so long ; 
Perhaps the breezes of yon isle 

Fanned them to sleep at eventide, 
And while they slept some stranger sent 

Them o'er the bounding blue to ride 
A while at sea. What sound was that! 

Did no one speak in accents low, 
As wavelets whisper to the beach 

When with the tide they come and go! 
I thought I heard them sigh and say: — 

"Where is our summer isle of bliss. 
Where the sun's rays, so warm and bright. 

First gave to us their morning kiss ! 
Laying my hand upon their stems 

I said : — "Why grieve, I love thee well, 
To-day is Easter, earth is glad 

Because a Savior came to tell 
Of peace. Oh, lilies, pure and frail 

So comest thou o'er waters blue, 



49 



THE EASTER LILIES. 

Holding in chalices of white 

The fragrance gathered in the dew, 
To breathe thy messages of joy ! 

Canst thou not on this bosom rest 
For just one Httle fleeting hour, 

To give a peace to thoughts distressed 
And comfort with thy perfectness? 

Thy wondrous beauty makes me glad. 
But as I spoke they seemed to say : — 

"We are so very, very sad." 
Then from the choir an anthem rang 

That made the lilies nod and sway. 
Bowing my head I softly prayed, 

"Shall duty stern or love to-day 
Be here my cross or Easter crown ; 

Oh, Father, 'tis a long, long way, 
I, a pilgrim, like the lilies 

Would thy commands in truth obey!" 
It seemed the lilies changed and there, 

All dressed in robes of dazzling white, 
A throng of seraph angels stood 

Singing, singing with all their might. 
"Peace to thy troubled soul," they said, 

"Christ is risen. He is not dead. 
Peace to all wounded and oppressed. 

For thee He bore the cross instead ; 
Lift up thy head, dear child, and see 
The lesson of Gethsemane." 



50 



THE JEWEL. 

A queen beheld a jewel 
And won it by her power; 

The opal changed its color 
And was faded in an hour. 

Thus lost in thought, we all may lose, 

The fairest gem that we might choose. 



5? 



EVENING HYMN. 

Hark, the twilight bells are ringing, 
Pealing sweetness through the air; 

List, their accents while they're singing, 
"Come ye weary kneel in prayer. 

Open up your treasure keeping — 

Share your heart's best with the Lord; 

While the bells are gayly leaping, 
Kneel, yes, kneel with one accord. 

See the day is swiftly dying — 

The last note has pierced the air; 
And your weary heart is sighing 
For the incense born of prayer. 

Hark, the message swift is given 
To each wanderer oppressed; 

Just as darkest clouds of heaven 
Always have a golden breast. 



52 



UNDERNEATH THE CLOVER. 

Wlat if your to-day is sad! 
Other days wil make you glad; 
Hope ne'er dies within the breast 
L eaving darkness and unrest ; 
I ove cries ort to be restored 
To heights, as yet inexplored, 
And thus we Hve on 
The vie ory to gain ! Anon, 
We shall rest, be'oved. 

What if. when life is over, 
We sleep beneath the clover! 
If we here have done our best 
As the time draws near for rest, 
Who will chide us then and say 
They believed not in the way 

We looked heavenward ! 

Ay ! for underneath the greensward 

All shall rest, beloved. 



53 



UNDERNEATH THE CLOVER. 



What if we love eyes of blue ! 
Other eyes were just as true, 
Just as kind words have been said 
By the gentle ones now dead ; 
Hearts now still were once as warm 
As those battling with life's storm; 
When all is over 
Underneath a little clover 
Rest the once beloved. 

What if oft thy faith grows dim ! 
Trust thou only then in Him 
Who made all you love and see ; 
Joy beyond awaiteth thee, 
For the eyes of brown or blue, 
They are watching there for you ; 

When all is over 

We shall rest beneath the clover; 

Rest is sweet, beloved. 



.=;4 




"Had not two dear dimpled hands 
Brousl.t me back with their caresses. 



DREAMS. 

I sat thinking, I sat dreaming 

In my big, soft, easy chair, 
And my mind was filled with fancies 

I had pictured in the air; 
All my thoughts were gently soaring 

In a cloud of rosy glow, 
Till I seemed myself the phantom 

Of some dream of long ago. 

I could see forms softly tripping 

O'er the hard oak polished floor, 
Powdered wig and high-heeled slippers, 

Knight and maid, but now no more; 
I could hear the music's cadence 

Rise and fall in accents sweet, 
Hear their voices and their laughter, 

And the measure of their feet. 

To and fro in wondrous mazes, 

In, now out, now here, now there, 
Thus I lost myself in dreaming 

In my big, soft, easy chair; 
Nor should I have soon awakened 

Had not two dear dimpled hands, 
Brought me back with their caresses 

From my trip to "Happy Lands." 



55 



GENTLE CONNECTICUT. 

Flow on, thou gentle river, through the valley, 
Pray, who could chide thee in thy winding course ? 

Yon old gray mountain keeping guard for ages, 
Bends low to thee, as if by magic force. 

The logs that float upon thy breast so gently, 
Have listened to the woodman's cheery song, 

They all have felt the ax upon them battling 
Yet now they glide a merry jostling throng. 

See how the meadows and the woodlands teeming 
With beauty, sing to thee a song of praise ; 

Ah ! who could have the heart to chain thy flowing, 
As on thy curving banks they pause and gaze ? 

Flow on and on, unceasing in thy journey 
Till thou hast found thy future in the sea, 

As in our hope for higher thought and action 
At last we find ours in eternity. 



56 



MT. TOM. 

Behold the quiet beauty of Mt. Tom ! 

Behold and gaze upon its lofty brow! 
Methinks the gods who dwell in yonder skies, 

Did plan it and with glory it endow. 

Here at its foot the golden meadow lies 

Teeming with grain, a harvest to its praise, 

There at its side the gentle river glides, 
While we in grateful song our voices raise. 

Behold the culture that on ev'ry side 

Circling adds honor to its well earned fame ! 

Behold ! ye in th' valley of ambition, 
Look up, aspire and win a lasting name. 



57 



THE ANSWER. 

Long rays of sunshine, 
A stretch of yellow sand, 

A dying day, 

A maiden near at hand. 

The golden gleaming, 

Bright on the distant shore, 
Sends back the waves 

With their sad nevermore. 



58 



IN THOUGHT. 

When first the rosy hghted dawn 

Awakes the slumberer to day ; 
When first the gentle warblers' notes 

Make glad the earth with sweetest lay. 
When Hfe is bright with love and hope, 

And the young day appears a song, 
Ah ! then thou art remembered, dear. 

Though thou art absent long. 

When day grows stronger and the flush 

Of dawn has ripened into noon, 
And buds shall burst with incense sweet, 

And earth's again in mellow tune ; 
When radiant with the sun's bright glow 

The flowers smile a happy throng, 
'Tis then thou art remembered, dear, 

Though thou art absent long. 

When earth about her form shall wrap 

The mantle of the day's decay. 
When winds of lonely fall shall blow. 

Or breezes of bright sunny May 
Come telling eventide is near. 

Or that all things shall pass away, 
Ah ! still thou art remembered, dear, 

With the last thoughts of day- 



59 



IN THOUGHT. 



When in the dark blue dome above 

The stars shine brightly forth at night; 
And peaceful, happy dreams shall come 

Again with their familiar sight; 
The angel Silence walks abroad 

Singing within its heart this song; 
"Loved one thou art remembered, dear, 

Though thou art absent long." 



fa. 




THE TWO ROSES. 



THE TWO ROSES. 

Oh ! rose of my garden, where are you, where are you, 
You bloomed here in beauty but just yester-e'en; 

Your soft damask petals with dew was asparkle. 
Rose of my garden, of the garden its queen. 

Ohl rose of my heart's depths, where are you, where are 
you? 

The sunlight grows dim when your smile is not near ; 
A moment ago I could hear your sweet laughter. 

Oh! rose of my heart's depths, why are you not here? 

Rose of my heart's depths, you have th' rose of my 
garden, 

I spy you there hiding and laughing in glee ; 
I shall come for you both, to get you and keep you, 

The two fairest roses the world holds for me. 



^ 



LINES. 

Thou hast a noble, knightly soul, 

And yet I say thee nay, 
Ere in the west the bright glad sun 

Shall kiss the fading day; 
The honor mine, the sorrow thine, 

Alas! that this should be, 
That I should be the cause of grief 

Is misery to me, 
Fillino^ my heart so full of thoughts, 

But who would understand 
All the sweet music love can sing, 

Sweeter than gold or land, — 
And so kind friend, I say thee nay, 

I grieve that this should be. 
Yet I do pray that thou wilt find 

Some one who loves but thee. 



62 



SELMA'S VIOLIN. 

At her feet, on a crimson cushion, 

I dreamed, a sweet dream of delight, 
My soul seemed in mid air suspended. 

And fast fell the shadows of night; 
There, swayed by the violin breathing 

Its sympathy, pathos and love. 
In fancy I dwelt in the region 

'Twixt earth and the blue sky above. 

My dream took a fanciful turning. 

As varied the notes of her scale ; 
Now, climbing some rugged steep mountain, 

Now, dropping to some misty vale. 
A spirit's wild laughter, it followed, 

It led me through glens by a brook; 
In deep tangled vine covered hedges, 

It showed me a sweet hidden nook — 

Where a bee buzzed just for a moment, 

In the cup of a wild blue bell, 
That shook by the weight of the stranger, 

As it sipped from its nectared well ; 



63 



SELMA S VIOLIN. 

Then it led me into the mountains 
Wh-re miners were digging for ore; 

They had taken out gold in millions, 
And, still they were searching for more. 

Then darkness came with the evening 

And entered the room, whi'e the song. 
Floated up and on till my vision 

Seemed fil'ed with an unbidden throng 
Of silver robed, beautiful maidens, — 

All keeping the time with their feet, — 
While chanting weird words to the music 

In voices bewitchingly sweet. 

I awoke. The violin silent 

Was resting at Selma's white throat, 
Her face had the look of an angel 

As echoed the last joyous note; 
And there, looking up at her beauty 

Orr souls in sweet unison met; 
The magical thrill of the music 

Shall we either ever forget? 



6* 



WHICH BEST. 

Pray ask me not which I love best 
For I can hardly bear the test; 
As all inspired with goodness true, 
One sister thrills me through and through, 
The other by her own sweet grace 
Holds me a captive face to face, 
Deep hidden in each loved one's eyes 
A glimpse of heaven surely lies. 



65 



FAME'S REWARD. 

Weak, dismayed, discouraged, full of fever and longing, 
Full of a wild sweet song that his parched lips could not 

utter. 
Paused he at break of day on a wooded liillside, and 

sadly. 
Fiercely he cried to himself, and then on the gods of the 

greenwood. 
Begging for aid for the immortal lay that dwelt in his 

bosom, 
That bosom whence oft had arisen brave songs for the 

people. 
Again, he cried : — "Harken, oh, harken, ye nymphs of the 

woodland ! 
Come from your dells or glens or mossy glades where 

sweet slumber 
Kisses the morning hours in gay fancies away, oh, 

awaken ; 
Breathe to my harp that lies helpless, lisp now the lay 

that escapes me ; 
Hope upon hope lies dead, and my song in my bosom 

may perish. 
Who is there to hear this murmuring soul-wounding sad- 
ness? 



66 



FAMES REWARD. 

Who to give strength or courage to music vibrating 

within me? 
Bright once were life and hope, and I sang to the people 

my gladness, 
Touching some heart that was sad, and bringing it back 

to sereneness. 
Now that my heart fills with song, ready to burst with 

emotion. 
All about me is still, not even the breeze from the moun- 
tain, 
Sadly wailing, allures me to action. Thus in this lone 

wood 
I shall die, if the notes of my song I soon cannot utter." 
Lamenting thus, down he gazed and beheld in the valley, 
Far below, a wayfaring brother weary and footsore, 
Like him dismayed, yet not despairing to master the 

summit. 
Tuned by the pitying sight was his soul at the threshold 

of madness. 
He rose, singing the song to the measure long hushed in 
his bosom. 

Touching the harp at his side, he thrilled the woodland 

with 
Echoes. Till exhausted he fell asleep far away in the 

greenwood. 

******* 
On the sloping hillside, a fairy, asleep found the minstrel. 



(^7 



FAME S REWARD. 

While the notes of his song, full of pathos, were on a 

parchment 
Writ. There wove she a wreath fit to crown the noblest 

of singers, 
"AH praise, all honor!" cried she. Then placed on the 

brow of the sleeper 
Fame's wreath, but he never awoke. So the song of the 

songster 
Heralded was to the world, but in life, until death he 

awaited 
All in vain for the echo of praise or of favor. Thus he 

died 
Lone, heart-broken as he finished his song. Thus ended 

his labor. 



68 



NANNETTE LEE. 

I know no eyes so bright as thine. 

That now look up at me ; 
I know no words that touch my heart 

Like those that come from thee; 
No grief Hke thine can make me grieve, 

No voice persuade like thine ; 
Oh ! fairest maid, turn not away 

But say thou wilt be mine. 

I'll climb life's steep and rugged path 

And win a name for thee ; 
I'll love thee well what e'er betide 

Through all eternity ; 
I pray thee listen to my heart, 

Oh ! do not say me nay, 
And enter sorrow in my life, 

But brighter make my day. 

I know no song so sweetly sung 

As that by thy dear voice ; 
I know no smile whose winsomeness 

So makes my heart rejoice; 
The cottage down the shady lane 

Beside the old beech tree. 
Is waiting every day for thee. 

My dearest Nannette Lee. 



69 



SIBYL. 

Once, years ago, when Sibyl Gray was young, — ■ 
With Hps and cheeks Hke cherries red; — 

There came a stranger to old Yarmouth town, 
And "madly loved her," so he said. 

He praised her "seraph voice," so clear and sweet. 
Her hair, her eyes, her winsome way ; 

He clasped fair Sibyl's hand and fondly said : — 
"You are my guide by night and day." 

"Your love," he said, "will ever be my shield, 
Protecting me from sin and harm ;" 

But, when he sailed to foreign lands away 
He left fair Sibyl at the farm. 

Years passed and Sibyl married Milton Gray, 

The stranger wed for an estate ; 
Content and peace in Sibyl's cottage dwelt, 

While discord was the stranger's fate. 



70 




'Tell me, sweet child." 



QUESTIONING. 

Tell me, sweet child, such a short time from heaven 
That angels still smile as they look on your face, 

Do plans we make here, come there to fruition ? 
Shall we in that realm all our best longings trace? 

Tell me, sweet child, shall we find all our loved ones 
Awaiting us there in that world whence you came ? 

Shall work be for love, unshadowed by sorrow 
The joy of the doing, the height of our aim? 

Tell me, sweet child, for the true light of heaven 
Reflected, I see, on your innocent face, 

What did you grasp, as to earth you descended, 
That fills your eyes full of God's infinite grace ? 



71 



ON LIFE'S SEA. 

Like unto ships, with sails, are men. 
The force propelling is the breeze; 

Like ocean steamers, women need 
A hand to guide them o'er the seas. 

The All- Wise made them as they are. 
And each is strong and each is weak ; 

When storms arise or when becalmed. 
Both must for help His guidance seek. 

The strong one oft becomes the weak, 
The weak one, greater strengfth may show, 

Each craft is built for its own work, 
And for the journey it must go. 

Then why comment upon the way 
Each makes the trip across life's sea; 

The chart's marked out, each in its course 
But follows the divine decree. 



72 



ASPIRATION. 

Fill up the glass till it no more can hold, 
Let not one drop of aught save perfect joy 
Be placed therein ; 
Then quaff the glowing essence till all told ; 
Then free from sorrow, from the world's alloy. 
From earthly sin, 
We rise to heights unknown, save immortality, 
And seem to gain perfection through its reality. 



73 



TO ELSIE. 

As I look into thy dear eyes 

So true, I find but pure delight; 
How can I look up at the skies 

When chained by thy fair orbs of light ! 
They touch my heart, loved of my soul, 

As doth the music of thy voice; 
Space may divide us, long years roll, 

Still, in thy love, will I rejoice. 



74 



PEU-A-PEU. 

It is little by little the rays of light 

Through the clouds are sifted like purest gold, 

And little by little, if we use our might, 

We can spread heart-sunshine ere life is told. 

Why then be sad and say life has no setting. 
The cross that you bear, another has borne, 

Bear it then bravely, why live in regretting. 
The rose that's fairest oft wears sharpest thorn. 

What is the use of forever repining 

And dreading the rain or the cloud's dark pall, 
For back of the clouds is the sun still shining 

And an All Wise Power reigns over all. 

*Tis little by little we climb the mountain, 
'Tis little by little all tasks are done, 

When life is o'er we shall rest at the Fountain 
The Fountain of Life with victory won. 



75 



SUNSHINE AND SHADOW. 

Fair is the sight of ships on the ocean, 

Though to distant ports they sail away ; 
Fair is the light of the sky at sunrise, 

Although it bring but a sadder day ; 
Fair is youth's hope, with its untried power, 

Though life's land of shadow lieth near; 
Fair is the bride at the altar kneeling, 

Though clouds may lurk in the sky now clear. 

Sorrow enters the heart that is lightest, 

And checks the peal of the laughter gay; 
It invades the thoughts of little children, 

Till they leave their playmates and their play. 
Oose to the sunshine lieth the shadow. 

Close in the heart lieth trust and fear. 
There's never one joyous, happy moment, 

But has a sorrow in hiding near. 



76 



NEW YEAR BELLS. 

I had listened to their music, 

Till with them my thoughts kept time, 
And I passed through scenes of pleasure. 

Till I dwelt in realms sublime; 
Laughing, sighing, sobbing, dying, 

Floated up those strains to me, 
As the billows travel landward 

From a rough and troubled sea. 

Then, I thought how much like music 

Ought this life of ours to be. 
Light and happy, calm and thoughtful, 

Till upon eternity. 
Rippling, ringing, dancing, singing, 

Floats the music of the soul; 
Thus attuned would earth be better, 

As the ages onward roll. 



77 



THE WINCO-PIPE. 

There is growing a wee flower 

So modest in its beauty, 
There are few people who can tell 

What is the flower's duty. 

In stubble fields or country roads, 
In damp or cloudy weather. 

It opens not its flowers bright 
Beside the wayside heather. 

But, if the day is to be fine 
At all the world 'tis peeping, 

It then foretells to young and old 
It has no time for sleeping. 

That far from home they all can roam, 

Without a fear of getting 
A drop of rain upon their clothes, 

To spoil them by a wetting. 



78 




W 
Is 



THE OLD NEW ENGLAND HOMESTEAD. 

The old New England homestead by the roadside stands 
to-day, 
In the grandeur of simplicity and worth ; 
Around its walls affection twines fond dreams both sad 
and gay, 
That gladden and make thoughtful this old earth. 
The lilac blossoms by the door 

In white and lilac plumes. 
And in the garden near is found 
All the old fashioned blooms; 
The fragrant box, the old time rose, 

Moss pinks and lemon balm, 
With thyme and marjorum and sage 
The weary nerves to calm. 

The old New England homestead by the roadside stands 
to-day, 
A monument to courageous hearts and true ; 



79 



THE OLD NEW ENGLAND HOMESTEAD. 



From out its halls brave sons have passed to battle in 
life's fray, 
For right, not might, their daily task to do. 
The courtesy of old time days 

Beside its hearth is found, 
Like lavender and rich old lace 
It makes the blood to bound; 
As potions of the old time mints 
Gave o'er taxed nerves a calm, 
So old New^ England homesteads lend 
To weary hearts a balm. 



80 



WHERE DWELL THE GODS? 

Where dwell the spirits of the gods 
Who touch and bring to life, 

The words immortal of the bards 
Whose measures soothe all strife? 

Methinks they dwell in purple mist 
At dawn and close of day, 

Methinks they sleep while others work 
And work while others play. 



8i 



IMAGINATION. 

Say, sweetest fancy, from what sunny summer clime 

Dost hail? Perchance thou'rt that from which our 
dreams are wrought, — 
Or didst thou gain existence from some silv'ry chime. 

That softly floated through the air, and fondly sought 
To tune the hearts of men? Methinks love made thee 
fair. 

And crowned thee queen of this, our ever changing 
world. 
Where age and sorrow silver all too soon the hair; 

Where grief and anguish flaunt their banner all un- 
furled. 
Say, does the purple mist on yonder mountain's crest 

Give birth to thy fair form ? Say, sweetest fancy, say 
Where dwells thy flitting ghost when earth is hushed to 
rest, 

And Night has covered with her mantle sleeping Day? 
Who hath not met thee at the portals of sweet sleep, 

Fearing to lose each moment thy companionship? — 
Yet at thy accents often must we pause and weep 

So strange so cruel are the words that leave thy lip. 
Who hath not followed thee to paradise, of love 

Knows naught, nor the soft soothing bliss almost divine 
From thorny, rough and ugly paths to heav'n above 

Making our way, we gladly would be slaves of thine. 



82 



RUE. 

Shut out the darkness, shut in the light ; 
Shut in the beauty, shut out the night ; 
Build on the hearthstone the cheerful fire. 
And list, oh, list to my heart's desire ! 
The night wind is harsh, the night is wild, 
Oh, where, oh, where is my best loved child ! 
Oh ! God have mercy, he sails the main. 
And bring him home to my heart again. 



83 



NAMELESS GRAVES. 

There are full many nameless graves 
Uncared for and unknown, 

Within whose quiet lowly sleep 
Souls that once brightly shone. 

There are full many nameless graves 
Unmarked by stone or cross, 

And though the sleepers we knew not, 
Some one has felt their loss. 

There are full many nameless graves 
Where grasses sweeping sigh 

Above the loved and cherished ones, 
Who now so calmly lie. 

There are full many nameless graves 
Where toilers pause to rest 

And dwell on holy thoughts of life, 
That rise within the breast. 

There are full many nameless graves 

The world forgets to-day, 
But He who notes the sparrow's fall 

Will watch o'er them for ave. 



84 



BROOKSIDE. 

Listen to the cattle lowing 

By the murmuring rill, 
See the meHow sunlight streaming 

O'er meadows sof l and still ; 
The summer day is full of peace. 

The hour is one of prayer, 
In ecstacy of sweetest thorght, 

Life seems devoid of care. 

The hours of the glorious day 

Ebb like the ocean's tide; 
The sunlight and the shadows rest 

All closely side by side. 
The crystal brook, the moss grown stile 

The willows bending o'er. 
Are but the means for fancy's flight 

Until in dreams I soar. — 



85 



BROOKSIDE. 



To that fair realm of endless peace, 

God's land of perfect day, 
Where not a shadow comes nor doubt 

To haunt the gladsome way, — 
By the brookside, reawaking, 

A song of praise I'll sing 
Till the meadows and the woodlands 

In unison shall ring. 

Nature's voice speaking gently 

To hearts attuned to hear. 
Tell the story of God's power 

To the listening ear; 
As the day fades, by the brookside, 

To eventide sublime. 
May these voices be prophetic 

Of the happier clime. 



86 




'And each day is full o'er flowing 
For a little lassie's sake." 



DAY DREAMS. 

I will tell you if you'll listen 

Of a dream so rich and rare, 
Half of earth and half of heaven 

Seems this dream to me so fair. 
By the roadside stands a cottage 

Bowered o'er with trailing vine. 
Half in shade and half in sunshine 

Stands the cottage that is mine. 

There, the morning zephyrs playing 

Kiss my eyelids as they wake, 
And each day is full o'er flowing 

For a little lassie's sake. 
Through the open door, the sunshine, 

Floods the old hall with its light, 
And the splendor of this brightness 

Fills my soul with pure delight. 

"Love," some say, "is for the spring-time," 

"Not so," say I, " 'tis for life," 
Pain and anguish, care and hardship, 

What count they, in life's fierce strife? 
Just a little word will alter 

All the darkness of a day, 
Love possesses the same sweetness 

When the spring has passed away. 



87 



DAY DREAMS. 



Love believes in looking forward 

Helping others day by day, 
Doing some wee act of kindness, 

Stopping here and there to pray; 
Seeking always first our duty, 

Though it seem quite hard and plain, 
And this gives to us a blessing 

That is afterward our gain. 

Work is noble, love is precious, 

Kindness is the Christian's part. 
Riches oft prove but a sorrow 

Crushing good deeds from the heart. 
Let the day dreams of our making, 

Then be builded so that they, 
Shail be helpfi 1 and uplifting 

To those battling in life's fray. 



88 



IMPRISONED. 

God pity the heart that exists in a prison cell ! 
God pity the tried soul that lives in an earthly hell ! 
For, if the God who made them doth pity not bestow, 
Pray, who is there on earth, who will listen I would know 
To the heart that sorrows from unjust sentence given ! 
Is there a God on earth or does He dwell in heaven ? 
Where needs the soul tried man and woman His mighty 

love 
So much as here? Here, where 'twill help them to rise 

above 
The temptation that bewitches them, and where some are 
Seeming devils to drag them down or lure them afar ; 
To the imprisoned, death holds a solace and a bliss, 
A peace the world's temptations deprive them of in this. 



89 



FANCIES. 

There are ships that ride on the billows, 

Far out on the mighty deep, 
And they carry our heart's best treasures. 

The best that was ours they keep. 

And the white capped sails as they flutter. 
Then disappear from our sight, 

May never go into the harbor 
That hope has flooded with light. 

For some of these barks are but fancies, 

Lx>, others are real as day ! 
Some have dauntless hearts at the compass 

To guide them upon the way. 

Our hopes are like crafts on life's ocean. 
Tossed about here and now there, 

Yet a peace may come when storms arise 
By the breathing of a prayer. 

If ever the longed for port is reached 
Shall our hearts no echo hear? 

Shall no vibrant chord respond to us 
From the hopes we held most dear? 



90 



JUNE IS DYING. 

The mellow light at sunset 

Kissed the blushes on the rose. 
The stars came twinkling brightly, 

As the earth sought sweet repose ; 
The breezes through the tree tops 

A mystic song was sighing, 
And far off echoes answered 

"Fair June, fair June, is dying." 

Thus fairest days must perish. 

Though our hearts in them take pride ; 
Full soon life's morning passes, 

And too soon comes even-tide. 
The perfume of the roses. 

Makes us long for June to stay, 
Alas ! that June must perish 

In its beauty pass away. 

Will June again come to us 

With sweet rose-covered bowers? 
Will the sunshine seem as bright 

As in life's earlier hours? 
Will our hearts drink in the joy 

Of the June days long since dead? 
Will the silvered locks be loved 

When the golden locks have fled? 



91 



JUNE IS DYING. 

Then a south wind gaining force, 

From some far off sunny sea, 
Came to comfort and to bless, 

With a soothing melody ; 
But its soft and plaintive song, 

As it sang of Junes long fled, 
Bore this note of present grief, 

June, Time's darling June, is dead. 



92 



A SONG. 

I'm waiting, sweet mother, 

Dear mother, dear ; 
I'm waiting, just waiting 

Oh, I pray do not fear! 
The way may seem dreary 

But my mission demands, 
That I must be loyal 

To the Master's commands ; 
Sweet mother, dear mother. 

Dear mother, dear. 

I'm waiting, still waiting 

Dear mother, dear; 
Take courage, take courage. 

Oh, I pray shed no tear ! 
For, if on my journey 

I may tarry full long, 
I still love you, darling. 

And this love is my song; 
Sweet mother, dear mother, 

Dear mother, dear. 



93 



LOOK UP. 
To M. S. McL. 

Look up, dear heart, sweet rest 

Is hers to-day, 
Henceforth her feet shall walk 

The brighter way ; 
No pain, nor sickness can 

Her heart oppress. 
Yet she is ever near 

Thy way to bless ; 
Like the unseen perfume 

Of rare flowers, 
Her love stays to comfort 

Thy coming hours, 
Like a benediction — 

A tender grace; — 
Dear heart, thy loved beholds 

The Savior's face. 



94 



WHEREFORE. 

We build for others not ourselves 
The palace grand and fair ; 

We form with beauty and with art 
Each winding turret stair. 

We place the chimes, in belfr)^ high, 

The clock, in steeple tall. 
And when 't is done, we lie quite dead, 

And others gain them all. 



95 



A BIRD'S LAMENT. 

Alone, in this prison house, sorrow I here, 

Yet those all about me, in love hold me dear ; 

Though I'm petted, caressed and fed from their hands, 

This house is a prison of brightest gilt bands; 

I'm fed ev'ry day on the gifts that they bring. 

But my soul, oh, my soul, oh, how can I sing ! 

I long for the blue sky that's over my head. 

And the sunsets that die all golden and red. 

For fields full of blossoms, oh, how can I stay, 

When brooklets are calling me out where they play ! 

I envy the songster who builds his own nest. 
Where soft winds may rock him so gently to rest ; 
Who carols his song to his God and his mate, 
With never a feeling of sorrow or hate ; 
Come, take down these bars and my freedom restore, 
I long just to fly to the woodlands once more; 
To pour forth the song that's asleep in my throat 
In one long entrancing melodious note; 
The hand that retains me a captive, I'm sure 
Knows not the heart longings a bird must endure. 



96 



A FRAGMENT. 

"If I should die to-night," 
Who then of me would write — 
''Much good, no harm she did," 
Above my coffin lid? 
Who then would come and say, 
O'er me at break of day ; — 
"No noble action wrought," 
Much good, no harm she sought? 
Ah! one I know would come, 
From out life's busy hum 
Of toil and grief and care. 
That all our hearts must bear, 
And she, my mother dear, 
Above my lonely bier. 
Would drop for me a tear 
Of love and trust sincere; 
And in her heart would say : — 
"Darker has grown the day 
Since she, my child, to-night 
Hath passed to realms of light." 



97 



YOUTH. 

Sleeping in the sunshine or reveling in the clew, 
Letting precious moments pass, that now seem all too 

few, 
Longing ^or the stars of night before the day's begim, 
Wishing for the coming day, ere yet the day is done, 
Dreaming of the future's work and planning it most fair, 
Holding consultation with the unseen in the air, 
Listening to the robin call or the whippoorwill, 
Drinking in the perfume rare that the flowers distil ; 
Chasing oft the butterfly o'er fields of clover sweet, 
Walking paths or country roads where those we love we 

meet. 
Dipping oar in ruffled stream or floating with the tide, 
Singing low some melody, as gently on we glide, 
Searching for some magic lore within some musty book, 
Building fairy castles grand, within a shady nook, 
Making love to beauteous spring in its gala dress. 
Calling every summer ours with a fond caress, 
Oaiming us the autumn comes and lo, we wake to grief 
Crying out, oh, where is youth and who has been the 

thief! 



qR 




"Listening to the robin call." 



SUMMER ROSES. 

Sweet is the breath of the summer roses, 

Albeit they wither, fade and die ; 
Sweet is the dream of a day departed, 

Although it wring from the lips a sigh ; 
Sweet is the hour when we are remembered, : 

Though time and distance loved friends divide ;- 
Sweet is the sound of the wild waves beating 

Against the shore with the rising tide. 

(thoughts that crept in.) 

Why sigh for the summer's sweetest rose, 
Will its fragrance bring thy heart repose ? 
Will the dream fade at the dawn of light ? 
Will sadness give thee a second sight ? 
Will remembrance heal thy wounded heart, 
And lead it on to a better part ? 
Will years of divided friendship bring 
'iy thinking, aught but a bitter sting? 
'Vill the sad waves as they rush ashore 
£ver cease their cry of "Nevermore"? 



99 



LOVE'S POWER. 

As constant as the river's flow in winding journey ever. 
As fervent as the spring-time's glow remains true love 

forever ; 
It surges high, the billowy deep with it can not compare. 
Its warmth and tenderness doth leap like cataracts 

through the air. 
It mounts the soul a fevered flame consuming in its 

power, 
It exists but for a single name and love's endearing hour ; 
By want or grief it is not crushed, they strengthen its 

devotion, 
It will not like a child be hushed with music's gentle 

lotion. 
The flame is fanned by ev'ry ebb of every tide or breeze, 
And like a fly caught in a web the enraptured know no 

ease; 
It dies not e'en with mortal breath nor from brave souls 

will sever, 
Love ne'er is conquered here by death, for love lives on 

forever. 
Who never felt its thrilling power till breathing seemed 

to cease 
Hath never known the spring-time hour nor the fireside's 

gentle peace. 



lOO 



THE DANCE. 

Vibrate ye cords of music most entrancing, 

Let sorrow take the wings of flight, 
Join in the revel of our merry dancing, 

Ere mom shall waft away the night. 
For life itself is but a few short dances, 

We meet, then part forevermore ; 
Who will not revel in its fairy trances, 

Lose sweets they cannot well restore. 

If Cupid tunes some hearts to wild romancing, 

Lightly we'll try the dance with joy. 
We'll pass the hours in bliss and fancy dancing, 

And try and cheat the darling boy. 
Fill up the glass, fill up the bowl of pleasure, 

Then dream of youths and maidens fair, 
Come, let us tread the magic dance's measure. 

Ere sorrow fill us with despair. 

O, do not be forever backward glancing, 

But forward always to the light! 
Come, mingle with the gay ones in their dancing, 

Ere pass the cup of sweets from sight ; 
Ere ruby lips and loved forms have departed, 

And the music hath lost its charm. 
Before the night to kiss the day hath started, 

Once more we'll circle arm in arm. 



lOI 



THE DANCE. 



Once more, to-night, come, heed its wondrous thriUing, 

While stars above us hold their sway, 
Let all our hearts with raptured joy be filling, 

O, let us dance till break of day! 
Here, man of sadness, gladness seek to borrow, 

And sport a moment in the bliss ; 
Here, here, is pleasure, fling away all sorrow, 

Till night shall toss to morn her kiss. 



T02 



THE NIGHTMARE. 

Through long perplexing mazes, 
Where beings use not phrases, 

And the cheerful sun is never known to shine ; 
Where no footsteps ever fall 
In the dreamland dreamer's hall. 

And the place presents the aspect of a mine ; 

There in fancy once I strayed, — 
I was very much afraid, — 

When I spied a prince in royal robes asleep; 
He was bound, it seemed quite sad 
By a string to paper pad. 

And for grief of this I soon began to weep. 

Not a sound escaped my lips, 
And my tears turned into chips 

Falling ev'rywhere, each way, I did but gaze, 
And in this most dreadful plight 
I did try to call outright 

With some wonder startling, horror striking phrase 



103 



THE NIGHTMARE. 



But my voice was stricken dumb, 
To assist me none would come, 

I awoke in fevered anguish and despair; 
And folks said who thought they knew, — 
Of such folks there are a few, — 

'Twas a nightmare and I'd better have a care. 

Since that time, I've taken care, 
Biscuits hot and truffles rare, 

Lobster salad, coffee, mince pie, I refuse 
At the hour of retiring, — 
They're not at all inspiring, — 

And a nightmare's not a Pegasus I'd choose. 



11)4 



CHILDHOOD DAYS. 

TO J. R. G. 

We live not for ourselves alone, 
But for our friends and kindred dear ; 

We toil and hope and watch and wait 
And weep, ah, many a tear! 

Yet oft we cross a sunny path 
Bordered with memory flowers, 

Reminding us of childhood's days, 
And youth's bright happier hours. 



lOS 



IMPRESSIONS. 

Ring out ye notes from yonder Gothic tower. 

Let no flaw be within thy sway, 
Peal out within thy granite's lofty bower 

A bridal anthem's sweetest lay ; 
For, who can say as down the roll of ages 

Thy joyous echo gently glides, 
It may not cheer the heart that it engages, 

Making it happy as a bride's. 

Toll out in measured tones from yonder tower, 

Let thy notes calm sad hearts to-day, 
Pour out a requiem that shall have power 

To lighten sorrow's darksome way ; 
For, who can say but that adown the ages 

Thy calming echoes, to the sad 
May be, a balm that ev'ry grief assuages, 

Making the future ages glad. 



To6 



THE VALENTINE. 

TO H. G. 

It was just a bit of blue ribbon 

Binding- some violets blue, 
While here and there twined a white lily 

Fragrant, half covered with dew, 

I sent them away on a mission 
Bearing a bright gladsome lay; 

Ah ! I wonder does he remember 
Dear old Saint Valentine's day. 



107 



FORGET ME NOT. 

"Forget me not/' the ebb tide waves 
Lisped as they left the shore ; 

The breeze took up the sweet sad strain, 
And murmured ; — "Never more.'' 

"Forget me not," a warbler sang; 

His accents thrilled a soul, 
As through the air in tenderness 

His plaintive music stole. 

"Forget me not, the world is wide," 

Two said at close of day, 

Two hearts in unison replied : — 

"Not till life pass away." 

* * * * * 

The first incoming wave erased 
The ebb tide's lisping word ; 

The soul forgot the warbler's song, 
In newer songs it heard. 

Two lovers parted for a time, 

Found other loves near by; 
Forget me not ! The world forgets 

The same as you and I. 



io8 



THE MISER. 

Once a miser, lean and old. 

Saved his gold, 
And wlien all his wealth was told, 

Was unrolled. 
You could pour it from your hand, 
Like a golden fountain grand, 

Till the floor 
Like a golden street appeared, 
But he lost, it is much feared. 

Lost his soul, 

On the whole. 

Once he was a youth most fair. 

And his hair 
Curled about a shapely head, 

It is said; 
And he had a stately step. 
Kindness through his pulses leapt, 

Till one day. 
Who can say what changed his course ; 
Do you think it was remorse, 

Made him strive. 

Thus to thrive? 

Was it grief that made him grind. 
Made him bind. 



109 



THE MISER. 

Till his chests with gold all lined 

You could find ; 
Till his youth it disappeared, 
And at sentiment he sneered. 

Was it death ? 
Or love, changed his gentle ways, — 
Made him sour in his young days, — 

To this state? 

Was it fate ? 

Bit by bit he saved the ore, 

Saved it more; 
At first folks thought ambition. 

His mission; 
Then his heart was kind and good, 
Few there were who understood, 

Why he chans:ed, 
But I knew him when his heart, 
Was a thing from gold apart, 

Long ago, 

This was so. 

I will tell his tale of grief 

It is brief. 
First he built in love's bright hour, 

A bower; 
In it grew a flower fair, 
Yet a canker worm was there, 

To destroy. 
And he tried to crrsh the thing. 



no 



THE MISER. 



Ere it left its poisoned sting-, 
On his dove. 
His dear love. 

But her spirit did depart, 

And his heart ; 
Heavy grew upon life's way. 

That sad day ; 
Then he hardened grew and cold, 
Though he was not very old. 

And from then, 
Hoarded for the sake of pelf, 
And he thought of naught but self, 

Bitter years. 

Without tears. 

The dear one who charmed his days, 

By her ways, 
And the brisrhtness of her smile. 

For a while, 
Took the c^a'^^necs from his life. 
When she >ft fhis world of strife, 

I. one asro 
And his henr: ?ern-ed turned to stone, 
And he Mvp'^ for '^-^Id a^one, 

Yellow ?old. 

Gold untold. 

Ye, of noble heart rivA mind. 
Be not blind ' 



II 5 



THE MISER. 



For the miser lean and old, 

And his gold, 
Is a lesson of life's loss, 
And its bitterness and dross. 

Doubt, despair. 
Grief we know must have its day, 
But look up, the better way. 

Leads from night, 

Into light. 



112 



FRAGMENT. 

Over my heart there sweepeth, like a sea, 

A current of pulsations and to-night 
My thoughts are clinging ever near to thee, 

While waiting for the dawning of the light. 

Before my vision comes a scene I know, 
And yet its setting is all strange and new, 

Can soul read soul ? I wonder is it so 
And if the key is given to the few ? 

The picture fades, the scene dies far away, 

Leaving an after wish oft to recall 
The trance thus gone, oh, why will it not stay 

When in it is enshrined life's little all ! 

And still we watch and wait for it the same 

To come again, resist it as we may ; 
There is an influence without a name 

That bears a power in the world today. 

'Tis a fragment, an echo stirred to life, 

A living spirit full of force and will. 
It is thought fired and charged with thought at strife. 

But of the universe a fragment still. 



113 



FAITH. 

He is not dead, his baby eyes 

Are laughing- in a glad surprise, 

At all the bright and pretty things 

Some watchful angel to him brings ; 

And ev'ry morn and noon and night 

He comes to you in his delight, 

And keeps your hearts in touch with him, 

In that fair land where naught grows dim ; 

And in your tasks here day by day 

He walks beside you all the way ; 

To help you by some loving deed 

That here your human hearts may need ; 

Your guiding angel here is he 

And will be through eternity. 



114 




'In your tasks here day by day 
He walks l:)eside vou all the way. 



FAR AWAY. 

Far away gleam the lights of the city, 

Beyond looms the lone mountain's brow ; 
The subduing influence of midnight 

Hushes earth into slumber now. 
The last note from the belfry has sounded, 

The last step on the stair has fled, 
While the calm and repose of the moment 

Fills the soul with a solemn dread. 

Far away seems the past like the future, 

To-day seems like yesterday's ghost; 
While the midnight and beautiful silence 

Seem filled with a fluttering host 
Of bright joyous-eyed, merry-eyed fancies, — 

But time will soon bring them to tears, — 
Thus unbarring the doorway to dreamland, 

We wander devoid of all fears. 

Far away seems the soul when we're sleeping, 

It roams without trouble or care ; 
Then the loved of our hearts seem the nearest, 

Fulfilled seems our every prayer. 
We heed not then the time in its passing, 

For time has not conscience nor heart. 
Departed seem our grieds and our trials 

And the cares of life's busy mart. 



"5 



FAR AWAY. 



Far away, we are told of a city 

Ablaze with the light of the soul ; 
Where the midnight of earth never enters, 

Though age upon ages shall roll ; 
There our thoughts are the echoes of music. 

There the right is easily done, 
There this earth and its dreams are forgotten 

And victory, victory's won. 



ii6 



LET IN THE SUNSHINE. 

Lift up the ruby curtains 

Let God's sunshine in to-day, 
Your life will be the brighter 

For each happy dancing ray. 
Lift up your cross though heavy 

'Tis no more than you can bear, 
And if you bear it bravely 

It will help to lighten care. 
For some, Joy's cup o'er floweth 

But to bring them griefs untold; 
Life's trial sheet is balanced 

By commingled dross and gold. 
Rejoice then in the sunshine 

And encourage it to stay, 
The fostered clouds grow darker 

So let sunshine in to-day. 



117 



THE CHIMES. 

I closed my eyes and fancied my love was sitting there, 
There beside the fire bright with its glint upon her hair ; 
And there in youthful beauty, with heart o'er full of glee, 
Her merry eyes in gladness they seemed to laugh at me. 
Upon a crimson cushion before the grate fire's light, 
My little love sat singing a year ago to-night ; 
It seemed she sang again to me, th' songs that pleased 

me so. 
And that th' vision bright must stay and warm me with 

its glow, 
But as the song in sweetness upon my hearing fell, 
From out old Grace Church tower pealed forth the New 

Year's bell. 
But, as the last stroke sounded the vision softly fled, 
And the joy of a past hour lay withered, crushed and 

dead. 



ii8 




"Oh, let me see my native town, 
And hear my mother's song."' 



THE SPANISH MAID. 

Come, sleep, with gentle lullabies 
Kiss lightly these tired eyes ; 

Loop up the curtain of dreamland 
Where longed for solace lies. 

And waft me back to the Southland 
That land beside the seas, 

And let me hear the music sweet 
Sung by the wooing breeze. 

Oh, let me see loved faces dear, 
And hear the Spanish tongue, 

Then, will I sing and dance with glee 
With heart both light and young! 

Oh, let me see my native town, 
And hear my mother's song, 

And touch again my dear guitar 
All silent now too lonaf! 



119 



THE SPANISH MAID. 



Oh, let me hear the wild bird's note, 

And feel its magic spell, 
And pluck the Spanish broom so sweet 

Whose haunts I know so well! 

Then let me by some shady brook 

Dream of my native shore. 
Oh ! waft me to that sunny land, 

To rest forevermore. 



12(» 



THERE'S A MAID IN THE MIST. 

There's a maid in the mist, take care, 
That has silvery shining hair, 

Through the air 'tis spread 

Like a silken thread; 
There's a maid in the mist, beware! 

The mist enshrouds her form, take care. 
Naught is seen but her snowy hair, 

Like a fine spun veil 

Is this halo pale 
That conceals this sprite of the air. 

Yet this maid can never be found. 
Although oft has the thrilling sound. 

Of her laughter long — 

Of her joyous song — 
Misled the sailor shoreward bound. 

Beware, beware, take care, take care. 
She's combing her shadowy hair. 

This waif of the sea — 

Is no love for thee — 
O sailor lad, beware, beware ! 



121 



THERE S A MAID IX THE MIST. 

This maid of the mist does not care. 
She heeds not how her victims fare, 

Her song- is follow — 

Her heart is hollow — 
List not this phantom's song, so fair. 

Her harp is strung- with threads of hair, 
Silver threads, that glimmer and glare, 

Gleam and glare with light 

Luring ships at night. 
O sailor lad, thy heart I'd spare! 

Trust her winsome song, O never. 
You'll find her heart false, forever. 

For you'll run ashore — 

And return no more — 
No matter how brave and clever. 

Keep from the shore nor wait to hear 
The siren's song, low. soft and clear. 

Away, from her spell 

For the fog bells tell 
Death to the sailor lad so dear. 



122 



A DEDICATION FOR A SCRAP BOOK. 

Place here-in, but choose with dexterous care, 
Precious thoug-hts, humorous, bright, wise and fair : 
Gems, that will give a crowning- to thy life. 
Bits gathered from the world of busy strife ; 
Wisdom, knowledge and merry mirth so gay, 
Should fill thy scrap book with their joyful lay ; 
Till, completely filled like a well spent day 
No grief 'twill cost thee to lav it away. 



123 



WHO WOULD YOU MARRY. 

Prithee, who would you marry, 

The Boston girl with classic brow. 
Who, when you ask her, says : — "Not now ;" 
Or maiden with romantic head 
Who thinks of narght except to wed; 

Say, is it best to marry? 

Nay, nay, I pray thee tarry. 

Prithee, who would you marry, 

A New York miss with charming way, 
Who ne'er believes one half you say, 
Or maiden rich in land and gold 
To care for you, when you are old ; 

Say, is it best to marry? 

Nay, nay, I pray thee tarry. 

Prithee, who would you marry, 
A Philadelphian heart free. 
Who knows by rote her pedigree. 
Or corntry lass, who laughs at morn 
And never plavs the maid forlorn ; 

Say, is it best to marrv? 

Nay, nay, I pray thee tarry. 



T24 



WHO WOULD YOU MARRY. 

Prithee, who would you marry, 

A Baltimore belle with face divine, 
And lips the shade of ruby wine, 
Or bit of child with piquant ways 
And a sweet voice to sing soft lays ; 

Say, is it best to marry ? 

Nay, nay, I pray thee tarry. 

Prithee, who would you marry, 

A Washington pet, this year out. 
Whose life is gay beyond a doubt. 
Or girl of sense who works each day 
And has a heart both blithe and gay; 

Say, is it best to marry? 

Nay, nay, I pray thee tarry. 

Prithee, who would you marry, 

A charming, classic, laughing maid, 
Romantic, piquant, not afraid. 
With good old name, a face to love. 
And common sense all these above; 

If she love thee, then marry, 

For 'tis not wise to tarn,-. 



125 



ANSWERED. 

Oh ! where are the ripples that ruffled the brook, 

As beside it we rested a while ; 
Oh ! think you they sing o'er the stones as they pass 

By the broken old mossy grown stile ? 

Oh ! where are the sunbeams that played on the mead - 
As we loitered beneath the oak's shade ; — 

Pray, think you they dance there as brightly to-day 
As they enter the path in the glade? 

Are our hearts just as light as in youth's bright day? 

Do our steps to sweet music resound ? 
Does the future hold care ? Has the past no song 

That is wrapped in heart-memories 'round? 

The brook ripples on to its home in the sea, 

And the stile is the same as of yore ; 
While the sunbeams they dance and leap in their play 

In the path in the glade as before. 

If our hearts then so young have grown kinder, love, 

Let us sing all the songs over, dear, 
Then past days or future, what are they compared 

To the joy laden present that's here. 



126 



NOVEMBER. 

The amber light of summer 

Is faded from earth away, 
The opalescent glimmer, 

Of this chill November day. 
Casts shadows gray and lonely, 

And the earth seems sad and drear 
With milky clouds above us, 

And no sunshine near to cheer. 



127 



BIRTHDAY WISHES. 

Wishes and what are they? 

They but express in part 
The gladness and the love 

That's locked within the heart. 
Birthdays and what are they? 

But cycles full, complete — 
A year closed, one begun 

With mem'ries sad or sweet. 
Of those gone, all is well, 

Of those to come I pray, 
God's blessing rich and full 

May meet thee day by day. 



128 



TWO VIEWS. 

There was an old woman named Bunday, 
Who always made bread of a Sunday ; 

And the rest of the week 

She would ev'ry day seek, 

In her work where she could 

To be doing some good ; 
But alas ! never paused one moment to think 
That in giving the poor both victuals and drink. 
She was wicked to make bread of a Sunday. 

There was an old woman named Lunday, 
Who went to church every Sunday ; 

And all the year around 

At church service was found. 

For her sins she would say 

A prayer every day, 
But she never once opened her purse I'm told, 
To give to the heathen a bit of her gold. 
Though, from church she never stayed of a Sundaj 



129 



TWO VIEWS. 



Now, these two dames, Bimday and Lunday, 
Made different uses of Sunday; 

One prayed by loving deeds, 
One followed only creeds; 
And this is just the way 
With the folks of this day, 
It matters not much where you happen to be. 
These two kinds of people you are sure to see. 
And they make different uses of Sunday. 



130 



A SINGLE PAGE. 

I know a cool and shady nook, 

Where mountain mint doth grow; 
Violets white delight the sight 

And babbling brook doth flow. 
Near by the fern, the maiden hair, 

Waves gently to and fro; 
Beyond the rill, the pink cranesbill 

Makes pasture lands to glow. 
To plant life, e'en a thousand kinds, 

The humid soil gives birth. 
The meadow lark, with crescent dark. 

Builds here her nest near earth. 
The flag, the cattail and the rush, 

Have sermons for the sage, 
Who from this nook, in Nature's book, 

Reads but a single page. 



131 



BIRTHDAY THOUGHTS. 

Could we but cross the border-land of thought, 
And chain the years that swiftly glide. 

We would have always sunshine and fair youth, 
But never the sweet eventide. 

Hearts all would beat in unison and joy, 
And birthdays ne'er would make us glad ; 

No shadows o'er our pathway then would fail, 
No sorrow then would make us sad. 

The Father planned the changing years of life. 
The seasons as they come and go ; 

'Tis best that e'en the roses fade and die, 
Or else we had not loved them so. 

We see the years slip by us one by one. 
And sadly oft we say, "Farewell;" 

We try to look beyond the future's veil, 
Where all our aspirations dwell. 

Each year we find the far off hope less near, 
The daylight fades ere heights are won. 

But if we keep our armor clean and bright, 
We'll hear the Master's praise, "Well done." 



132 



MARCH. 

You gusty, blustering, noisy fellow, 

Unruly child, all hurry and scurry, 
You always seem glad to be in a whirl, 

And are forever in such a worry. 
Why can not you take things easy and be, 

A little peaceful, a wee bit smiling ; 
Just once for the sake of letting us think 

Our hearts from sorrow, you are beguiling. 
You come like a great electrical shock 

A clamorous message along a wire, 
I wonder you would not rest for a while, 

And, prithee, my dear, do you never tire 
Of blowing and throwing the signs about, 

Endangering folks at peace out walking? 
Say, stormy, swaggering, boisterous March, 

Why don't you lower your voice in talking? 
Impetuous, frisky, vehement one. 

Spoiled child, ill mannered, wilful and haughty 
Of all the children of old Father Time, 

You are the one most frequently naughty. 



^33 



THE PHANTOM FORM. 

Listen, sweet ! It is her footstep 

Sounding on the oaken floor. 
For I know her cheery greeting, 

So I'll open wide the door. 
There Fll see my darhng waiting 

Oh! the rapture and the bUss, 
Of the greeting of my darling, 

And her loving, tender kiss. 

Harken, dear! I am mistaken, 

It is but a phantom form, 
And the moaning of the night wind. 

Telling of the coming storm. 
No, it cannot be my darling. 

For her voice was soft and sweet, 
And beyond where / am waiting, 

Would not pass her lithsome feet. 

No, I cannot ope the casement, 

Nor to-night unbar the door. 
For those footsteps, phantom footsteps, 

I have heard them oft before. 
'Tis my heart that hears the knocking,- 

She will enter never-more, — 
For my darling, gently slumbers, 

'Neath the silver sycamore. 



134 



HIGHLAND LAKE. 

ELDRED, N. Y. 

Up among the quiet mountains, 

A beauteous lake is seen, 
On its bosom floats the Hly 

Royal as a very queen, 
All about, grow fern and laurel, 

Weaving each, a garland fair, 
And the breeze is heavy laden 

With sweet perfume, rich and rare. 

Chorus. 

Highland beauty, oft shall fancy 
Wake thy beauty in my heart; 

Oft shall come the thoughts of summer 
With the dreams thou didst impart. 

Gliding o'er the silent water. 

Resting in some shady nook. 
Dancing 'neath the starry banner, 

List'ning to the rippling brook; 
Walking to the distant hamlet 

Gay companions by our side, 
Laughing, singing, telling stories 

As upon the lake we glide. 



US 



HIGHLAND LAKE. 



Highland Lake, O, may thy beauty 

Never fade nor seem less dear! 
May the breeze that fans thy waters 

Sing a gleesome song of cheer. 
May the youths and happy maidens 

Sport upon thy surface blue; 
May their hearts be gay, yet kindly, 

And their lives be good and true. 



136 



HIGHLAND MAID. 

Oh, dream, dream, dream away the daylight. 

Till starry night shall deck the day's blue dome 
Oh, love, love, lovely highland maiden — 
Come, through the meadows let us roam, 
Garlands wreathing. 
Sweet songs breathing — 
Oh, beauteous, airy summer day, 

Leave, leave thy highlands, by the water 
And we'll together dream the hours away ! 

Oh, dream, dream, dreain with love enticing. 

It gladdens hearts and makes them light as air ; 
Oh, love, love, lovely highland daughter — 
I'll crown thy bright and sunny hair. 
How entrancing 
To be dancing — 
Gayly, lightly, lightly tread the way; 

Come, leave thy highlands, by the water, 
Ere pass the glad and joyous summer day! 



137 



HIGHLAND MAID. 



Oh, dream, dream, dream away the daylight, 

In singing songs to sweet tunes by the hour. 
Oh, love, love, lovely highland maiden, 
Thou art the fairest mountain flow'r. 
Sweet songs singing, 
Lilies bringing. 
Filling hours with love and joy for aye. 
Oh, leave thy highlands, by the water. 
And we'll together dream the hours away! 



138 



HONEYSUCKLE DELL. 

"Little maiden in the shade, 
You'll be stolen I'm afraid; 
With your dainty ways so shy, 
Orbs as blue as yonder sky, 
Rosebud lips and cheeks so pink, 
I will steal you, yes, I think 
I will steal you, winsome elf, 
I will gain you for myself." 

Just as I, these words had said, 
Came a bee from overhead; 
I was thinking of the maid, 
Of the bee she was afraid; 
On my nose he lighting, spoke! 
But I did not like his joke! 
"Cit)-^ chaps who fain would steal," 
Said he, "Should be made to feel." 



139 



HONEYSUCKLE DELL. 



I did feel and left the maid 
In the honeysuckle's shade ; 
But the chap who stole her said,- 
The year after he was wed. — 
That "'the bee was kind to me, 
And he wished a humble-bee 
Had been kind to him as well 
In the honeysuckle dell." 

"Moral," said he, "do not steal, 
Else a punishment you'll feel." 



140 



THE REPLY. 

TO M. W. A. 

"What is a year?" If we but spend it well 

It must have its own history to tell ; 

"A year to live" is far better I say 

Than the "might have been" of a yesterday. 

Th' action of living brings its own reply. 

The memories stored need no question "why;" 

The spirit that dwells in every breast 

Cries : — "I shall live again" and th' thought is blest. 

A Messenger came from the land of light, 

His coming illumined earth's pathway bright 

By hope that shall last forever and aye, 

Till love is perfect and sin pass away ; 

What we have garnered He alone can tell 

When work is o'er. If our tasks are done well 

Our cry will be one of great joy not pain; 

"We die in Christ" but we shall live again. 



141 



A KINDERGARTEN SONG. 

Wake up little blue eyes 

Arise now I say. 
The sunshine is coming 

From over the way, 
It soon will be school-time 

And then you must go, 
Where all the good children 

May stand in a row. 

Then dress in a hurry 

Bright eyes at one call, 
Come Jessie and Bessie 

Nor tarry at all, 
Now Freddie and Teddy 

Come hasten away, 
For the Kindergarten 

Makes happy the day. 

There teacher and children 

May join hands and say, 
Some bright pretty verses 

Or sweet roundelay, 
Then games to make merry 

These children so nice. 
Ere school-time is over 

If still as wee mice. 



142 




'It soon will be school-time. 



LIFE'S BEST. 

"Oh, what was love made for, if 'tis not the same" 
Through courtship and marriage, I beg you explain ; 
I ask not for wealth, position nor glory, 
But love must be mine to th' end of the story. 



143 



TO MY FATHER. 

It seems but yesterday, and yet 
Full forty years have sped, — 

Since by his side I tripped along, — 
Where have the long years fled ? 

Five passed in study, five in art, 

Five playing by a rill, 
Five teaching an impulsive heart 

To be controlled at will. 

Ten, in a cottage covered o'er 
With roses bright and gay, 

Slipped by while laboring for fame, 
For which I strove each day. 

Ten passed in leisure, with loved ones, 
To bless my waning years. 

So, this is how the time was spent, 
I've left out all the tears. 



144 



MUSIC. 

Melodious music makes men glad 
And gathers followers a throng, 

Who, list'ning to its gladsome beauty, 
Soul touched are braver for the song. 

Children for music pause in playing, 
By some strange impulse of the breast ; 

The babe upon its mother's bosom 
Is hushed by song to perfect rest. 

The wanderer on distant prairie 
Nearing some settler's cabin home. 

And hearing the song his mother sang 
Regrets the hour that made him roam, 

Regrets and drinking in its beauty, 
Resolves by those soft strains and low, 

To change his course, retrace his footsteps, 
And on the morrow homeward go. 

The sailor on the wave tossed ocean 
Singing his, "Ho ! heave ho ! heave ho ! 

Oft cheers the hearts of tired travelers, 
As o'er the bounding blue they go. 



145 



MUSIC. 



Some hearts that else by grief had drifted. 
Are saved by music of a voice ; 

Others, by some soul wrought song, become, 
As slaves without a will of choice. 

Sacred music makes all men to bow 

Submissive to a Higher will. 
And unbelievers believing come 

Responsive to its solemn thrill. 

The prima donna doth captive hold 
The hearts of men, who homage give. 

She hath the power to touch their souls 
And make them better while they live. 

The happiest music of the world, 
Is Nature's voices glad and free; 

And they who listening pause shall hear. 
The world's most perfect symphony. 



146 



TIME'S CHANGES. 

There seems to be a change in things 

Since you and I were boys ; 
The street cars have no horses now, 

The grist-mill few employs. 
A mighty stride is being made, 

And wire holds the power, 
That is the push in ev'ry thing 

In this prevailing hour. 

There seems to be a change in things 

As older here we grow, 
The colleges are teaching now 

A lot we do not know 
About athletic sports and such. 

But, when it comes to work. 
The lesson that the boys learn best 

Is how, a task, to shirk. 



147 



TIME S CHANGES. 



There seems to be a change in things, 

Commencements by the score 
Are not now what they used to be 

In good old days of yore ; 
Then folks went to the big town hall, 

And say! it used to pay, 
But now, some funny business 

Fills up the classic day. 

There seems to be a change in things, 

Which, think you, is better. 
The good old friendly handwriting, 

Or, th' typewritten letter? 
Ah, well. Time rushes on apace ! 

We are not boys and so 
We'll make the best of what we have, 

While letting old ways go. 



T48 



THE SEASONS. 

The summer days are now no more, — 

Joy days that made us glad, — 
We sadly ask: — "Where have they gone?" 

For fall days make us sad ; 
The leaves are strewn in ev'ry path, 

The flowers are asleep; 
The birds have flown to other climes 

And tangled wild woods deep. 

With blessings is the summer full, 

While spring and autumn days, 
Are days in which the heart should sing 

The sweetest, brightest lays; 
The winter with its mantle soft 

Of purest, whitest snow, 
Is just the best time of the year, 

Do you not think 'tis so? 



149 



BONNETS AND SONNETS. 

Forgotten lies last year's bonnet, 
Neglected is last year's love, 

Deep buried lies last year's sonnet 
"To the clouds," that float above. 

I've purchased a newer bonnet 
That has won my later love, 

By writing another sonnet 
To the same old clouds above. 



150 



THE CHIMNEY CLIMBER. 

(Thoughts suggested while watching "Steeple Jack" pushing 
his toilsome way to the top of the great chimney of Clark's 
Thread Works.) 

Say, who will climb yon chimney tall 

And put a scaffold to its crown? 
The mill is closed, the workers all 

Are unemployed about the town. 
Is there no one to say, — "Aye, here" ? 

Has courage fled and valor died? 
Think of the hungr}' and the dear 

Who by this idleness are tried. 

Forth from the throng a brave man pressed, 

"Aye, here's the man the deed will do! 
I'll scale the stack and only rest 

When daylight fades and work is through. 
I'll raise a ladder, climbing high. 

And reach the topmost cap above, 
Nor shall I faint, nor fall, nor die, 

But liz-e to work for those I love." 



i^i 



THE CHIMNEY CLIMBER. 



So should we place our ideals high, 

With purpose just as truly grand, 
Scorning failure — "On ! up !" the cry, 

Till at the summit's point we stand. 
Then as we view the work thus done. 

And count the rounds that all may climb. 
Know our success is fully won ; 

When others reach these heights sublime. 



IS? 



THE BOWL OF MARIGOLDS. 

As I sit here beside you, writing, 

My heart the sunshine holds, 
From your cheerful faces reflected. 

Beautiful marigolds. 

Your leaves are feathery and fragile, 
Close to your stems they cling ; 

While their piquant and spicy fragrance 
Joy to my heart doth bring. 

If "cruelty" be your life's emblem, 

I understand not why 
Unless, while we're paying you homage, 

You fade away and die. 

I gathered you in from the garden, 

Be kind to me I pray, 
Just to show that the old time fable, 

At last, has passed away. 

Yoiir dwelling shall be, this antique bowl. 
This old time stand your sphere; 

And all our hearts shall cease from grieving, 
If you remain to cheer. 



LS3 



THE PAST. 

Begone, thou child of wav'ring fancy! 

Nor in the present haunt our rest, 
To-day is glad and bright and joyous, 

With thee we would not be depressed. 
We would look out into the future, 

The spring time of a grand new birth ! 
When birds and flow'rs and merry music, 

Shall come again to deck the earth. 

Not backward to those scenes familiar, 

That caused our hearts such grief and pain. 
But forward, where the mellow sunshine 

Shall fill our souls with peace again. 
We would not call to life and being. 

The past though filled with mem'ries bright. 
Begone, thou child of wav'ring fancy. 

Into oblivion and ni^ht ! 



154 



THE WANDERER. 

I am a wanderer, so long- 
Estranged from friends and those most dear, 

That hke the roaming of the winds, 
I have no home on earth, I fear. 

I toiled for years and heaped up gold, 
That distant countries I might see ; 

And, having gained my fond desire, 
I studied then to learned be 

I sought in science, art and creeds, 
To find beginnings and the end, 

But never thought in my young life 
Of love or of a dear, dear friend. 

One day at dusk such mighty clouds, 

Hung heavy in an English sky, 
I thought, wliat is the world to me, 

And who would care if I should die. 

I wandered idly, here and there, 

Until a lass I chanced to meet, 
And stopping asked : — "Where are you bound 

With heavy load my pretty sweet?" 



155 



THE WANDERER. 



"So near heaven, kind sir," she said 
"It must be an errand of love; 

Those who are waiting there, I ween. 
Must hear the sweet music above." 

"What is an errand of love, child, 
And where is heaven," then I said, 

"What is the song- you say they hear 
And where are our beloved dead?" 

"Errands of love are kind deeds done, 
Which angels praise through gates ajar; 

Heaven lies in humanity. 

Not in some wondrous land afar." 

Not these words did the lassie use, 
But this the soul of what she said, 

With hand on her heart she whispered, 
"Here abide our beloved dead." 



156 




"1 dream the vista of the coiuin.i^- days.'' 



STILLY NIGHT. 

Oh, stilly night, in thy sereneness vast, 

I pause, awe struck, in reverential fear. 
The solemn splendor of the starry night, 

A canopy gem-studded, doth appear! 
An inspiration swells within my breast 

A loftier, a higher height to gain, 
Moved by its all impelling force I strive. 

Though at the summit waits but grief and pain. 

Oh, stilly night, in thy unbounded space 

I am as naught in God's plan to compare, 
Mysterious, soul examining hour. 

The essence and the semblance of a prayer ! 
Wherein I know, I feel a Higher Will, 

That prompts my ev'ry act, my ev'ry thought, 
And yielding to this providential force ; 

In true devotion, kneeling, I am brought. 

Oh, stilly night, in thy far distant height, 
I dream the vista of the coming days, 

And see bewildering, wondrous fancies, 

And hear ?oft notes of glad, deliprhtsome lays ! 



157 



STILLY MIGHT. 



I know this all inspiring, solemn hour 
Will fit the future, with its perfect strain 

Of merry music from which shall never, 
Arise a discord or an anguished pain. 

Oh, stilly night, sweet benediction's hour, 

Wherein glad, joyous, happy thoughts may sway 
The enraptured soul, inspired of heaven. 

With precious dreams that never come by day ! 
In thy vast magnitude, oh, mighty night! 

With thy strange influence o'er soul and brain, 
Gazing on thy beauty, all inspiring, 

I would fair heaven's perfect heights attain. 



158 



THE POET'S INSPIRATION. 

Thou art resting on my heart, dear, 

Oh, loved one of the mind. 
Cruel though Fate has been to us, 

Yet thou wilt ever find, 
One who believes that hour by hour 

Will ope the perfect way. 
And joy shall tune the unused harp. 

And Love shall sing his lay. 

Thou art resting on my heart, dear, 

By thee my pulse is thrilled. 
The power of thy influence 

Hath all my being filled ; 
No one can change the harp, dear heart. 

It lisps its own decree, 
Wild notes of love, pure notes of love, 

Through-out eternity. 

Thou art resting on my heart, dear. 

My trust is all in thee. 
My love, my light, my life, my hope, 

Thou art all this to me ; 
A dream, my fair Adonis still, 

Of all my song the soul ; 
The idol of perfected thought, 

The chime that echoes roll. 



159 



THE POET S INSPIRATION. 



Thou art resting on my heart, dear, 

Thou beauteous child of joy, 
Carved by the art that loving hands 

To fashion thee employ; 
Thy marble beauty seems to warm 

Whene'er thy name I lisp. 
Thou art pale marble then no more 

Nor fleet Will-O'-The-Wisp. 

Thou art resting on my heart, dear, 

A vision fair and sweet, 
Oft bearing me to far off climes, 

On wings or fairy feet. 
There warmed by some soft wooing sky, 

'Neath which there is no strife, 
By some melodious song I sing. 

Thou gainest joyous life. 

Thou art resting on my heart, dear, 

Creation of my dream ; 
Perfected thought, perfected love. 

Of heaven's bliss a gleam. 
From labyrinths of fancy, thou 

Hast found this heart of mine, 
And all the songs that I shall sing 

Foreverniore are thine. 



i6o 



THE VILLAGE. 

I think I see it, as I saw it then, 

In the first rose blush of the morning's dawn ; 
Ere the sun had Hghted the mountain's side 

With a golden glow ; ere the pearly fawn 
Of the vapor soft, that clings like a robe, — 

Enshrouding the valley and mountain's brow, — 
Had lifted its veil like a blushing maid; 

Of that village I'm dreaming now. 

A mist comes over my eyes as I dream 

In futile longings for that olden time ; 
I lose the present as memory drifts 

Back to that morning that was half sublime. 
In the roseate glow of that fair morn, 

The future and the mountain seemed so near. 
Only the valley to travel across. 

The way looked short, life's sky was clear. 



i6i 



THE VILLAGE. 

I think I can see a fair golden head, 

As a tiny form swings out on the gate ; 
Oh ! the dear old cottage where I was born, 

How oft I have wondered as to its fate. 
I dream that the village has not been changed, 

That children play on the green as of yore ; 
That youths and fair maidens walk hand in hand ; 

Shall I e'er see that village more? 

But dreams fade swiftly, as the mists that rise 

With each rosy day as it draweth near; 
Yet music they bring from the long ago, 

That is doubly sweet to the dreamer's ear. 
And the village then as I saw it first. 

Asleep at the foot of the wooded hill 
Is a picture I love to dwell upon. 

And in fancy I see it still. 



163 



LIFE AND DEATH. 

Didst ever pause, while deep in meditation 
On the life that is and that which is to be, 

And think, that there is room for greater action, 
And far nobler thoughts than those that rise in thee ? 

That thy least thought, or noblest word shall ever 

Pass on and on and forever, ever roll. 
That, what we call life and what we think is death, 

Are but two separate garments of the soul ? 

The first so tinted is and so well shaded. 

That it shows the Artist's high light strong and clear ; 
The second is a Rembrandt so rich and dark, 

Yet so beautiful, it takes away our fear. 



163 



COULD WE. 

Could we but lift the curtain fronii the hearts 
Of those who sorrow in our daily life, 

Could we but ease their griefs, that pierce like darts 
Then might we live for something in earth's strife. 

Could we but bridges build o'er failings here, 
With cables strong, abysses dark to span, 

Then might we make life glad and full of cheer, 
And be a helper to our fellow man. 

Could we but know some smiling face to-day 
A sorrow masks, as onward here we go. 

We would not pass with careless word and gay, 
And leave that one to grieve, could we but know. 



164 



THE BLIND WISHER. 

I wish I were all that thou art, love, 
I wish I were what I should be, 

I wish all the thoughts that I have, love, 
Were the good thoughts I think of thee. 

I wish all the good we should do, love. 
Were less hard, more easy to do, 

I wish all the fickle in life, love. 
Would learn to be faithful and true. 

I wish I could make the sad, gay, love. 
By deeds I would willingly dare, 

I wish I could make the bad, good, love. 
By lisping my childhood's wee prayer. 

I wish that the poor were not poor, love, 
I wish that their lot were more blest, 

I wish that the rich were more wise, love. 
And they had a heart in each breast. 



165 



THE BLIND WISHER. 



But what is a wish worth, I ween, love, 
Unless it could bring thee to me, 

But if it could bring thee to me, love. 
Thy face I could never more see. 

But wishing is vain and not wise, love. 
Because my eyes never can see, 

For weeping hath blinded my sight, love. 
Hath blinded, while wishing for thee. 



i66 



DO NOT DELAY. 

We danced all night till morning-. 

Fair Polly, Bess and I, 
Along with Molly Bassett 

And Jack and Bert and Cy, 
And little blue eyed Nelly, — 

I seem to see her yet ; — 
Her ways so bright and winning, 

I never shall forget. 

I led her through the lanciers, 

Adown the polished floor ; 
She nodded to the others, 

Beside the open door. 
I said the little nothings, — 

That folks say as they dance, — 
To speak the words that filled me, 

I failed to find a chance. 



167 



DO NOT DELAY. 



Alas ! for fate and fortune, 

For in the next quadrille, 
I saw her smiling sweetly, 

On my big brother Will. 
And he found time to tell her, 

The words I would have said, 
And so he won fair Nelly, 

The one I thought to wed. 

A moral has this story. 
If you have aught to say, 

Just speak right up and say it. 
You lose if you delay. 



168 



SERENADE ANITA. 

Oh, fair Anita, wake, oh wake ! 
Sleep hath its charms, but for my sake 

Sleep thou no more, 

I thee adore. 
Why dream if I thy love be near. 
Wake for my sake if I be dear; 

Loved Anita, 

Dear Anita, 
What eyes on earth are there so bright 
That sparkling with their magic light 

Hold such power 

Through ev'ry hour ! 
Oh ! loved Anita, wake, oh ! wake. 
Sleep hath its charms, but for mv sake 

Dream thou no more, 
I thee adore. 



169 



"TOTS." 

TO J, F. M. 

I kissed the child, as he played at my feet, 
Where I sat in the mellow golden light 

Of an autumn day, as the sun declined, 

While my heart was full of a sweet delight. 

And there on the bank of the old, old road, 
I sat, till the sunbeams grew tired of play, 

Twining gay wreaths for his fair baby curls, 
As garlands of love on an autumn day. 

But my hands grew cold, as the wreaths I twined, 
The sunbeams faded away in the west, 

"Oh, Dearie ! my. Dearie !" the baby cried, 
'T want to go home, I like home the best." 

Then we hurried home to the loved hearthstone. 
Where the warmth and the light of love held sway ; 

And carried our garlands of blue and gold. 
Our harvest of blooms, of an autumn day. 



170 




"TOTS." 



SPRING. 

Softly sighing through the pine trees, 
Came the breeze all laden rare ; 

Kissing now and then my forehead, 
Fanning oft my tumbled hair. 

Came the breezes sweet a wooing, 
With scented breath of flowers ; 

Hidden in the mossy woodland, 

Though I'd sought them many hours. 

And their sweetness, from their shelter, 
Tossed by southern zephyrs fair. 

Filled my soul with wondrous calmness 
That had strength to banish care. 

Till the subtle, hidden sweetness. 
Bore me on to heaven's gate, 

Where no dreary winter enters 

Where for spring one need not wait. 



171 



SPRING, 



Like the breezes, softly sighing, 
Passed the vision far away; 

Left me thinking of the problems, 
That are ours from day to day. 

Why we only grasp the summer 
As the breezes bring the fall ; 

Only see the golden autumn, 

When drear winter claimeth all. 



172 



THE PASTEBOARD BOX. 

It is but a pasteboard shoe-box, 

Badly worn and very old, 
And 'tis filled so full of letters 

Not another can it hold. 

I will just look through its contents 
To decide which ones to keep ; 

There are letters full of comfort. 
There are some o'er which I weep. 

Those tied with a golden ribbon 
Oh, with those I ne'er shall part, 

They were written by my mother 
From a mother's loving heart. 

"Friends" is marked upon this package, 
I will read them o'er and see 

From their number just how many, 
To the flames consigned may be. 



1/3 



THE PASTEBOARD BOX. 



I have read the letters over, 

All the sad ones and the gay, 
And so much of youth they've brought me, 

I shall not burn them to-day. 

In the box I'll put the letters, 
Though 'tis verv' worn and old, 

And I'll tie on close the cover, 
For the box no more can hold. 



174 



A LULLABY. 

Over the mountain, darling, 
Over the mountain high, 

We're going on a journey 
To land of Lullaby. 

Over the hill tops, darling. 

Over the stony way. 
To land of faultless footsteps. 

To land of Perfect Day. 

Over the mountain, darling, 
Where dreams of rosy hue 

Shall light your eyes, my darling. 
Your baby eyes of blue. 

Over the hill tops, darling, 
No Wake-up land is there ; 

Over the hill tops, darling, 
There is no need of prayer. 



175 



SUCH A LITTLE CHILD. 

"Will you tell me little maiden 

Why your eyes are wet with tears ? 

Will you tell me why no laughter 
"Round your pretty mouth appears?" 

" 'Cause I've broken my big- dolly, 
And my doggy's gone astray, 

And I can't have any candy 

'Cause my daddy's gone away." 

"Mamma says, — 'I'm cross and naughty,' 

Susan's busy with her pies, 
And I dare not play with Freddy 

Mamma says, — 'He tells such lies.' " 

"So I've no one left to love me, 

I've a dreadful lot of cares. 
And I want to go to heaven 

But I cannot find the stairs, 

If I could, I'd go directly," 
Here the little darling smiled ; 

"But, oh, dear, I cannot find them 
For I'm such a little child." 



176 



ADVICE. 

Beware of yonder parlor 

You foolish little fly, 
For don't you see the spider 

Has mischief in his eye ? 

His winding stairs will make you 
Quite giddy in the head, 

And you'll no more come down them 
When you are cold and dead. 

His parlor, rainbow tinted, 

Is neat as he doth say ; 
But when he once hath caught you, 

You cannot get away. 

Beware, you silly house fly. 
Don't climb his tempting stair, 

But seek your humble living 
Out in the open air. 

Perhaps his offered parlor, 
May seem a pretty sight, 

But beauty often leads one 
Into a sorry plight. 



// 



GRANDMA'S TREASURES. 

A bunch of withered flowers, the likeness of a face, 
Some letters worn by reading with here and there a trace, 
As if the heart had filled, like an overflowing spring, 
In grandma's box I found these, with a wee baby's ring. 



178 




MY SAILOR BOY, 



MY SAILOR BOY. 

My sailor boy went sailing far 

Across the stormy deep, 
I knew the dangers he must brave 

And this caused me to weep. 

I watched my sailor boy depart; 

He waved his hand and cried : — 
"I shall be back again, some day 

Upon the rising tide." 

He sailed away, oh, far away, — 

Across the dining room, — 
I heard him shout, "Heave ho! Heave ho! 

My heart was filled with gloom! 

The ship was rocking very hard, 

The blue waves rolling high, 
The ceiling of the dining room 

Made dark my sailor's sky ! 

But little cared my sailor boy 

Bound now for Liverpool ; 
He steered his ship without a chart, 

Or rigid, laid down rule! 



T70 



MY SAILOR BOY. 



Full soon his ship reached England's shore 

And then, for France set sail, 
Both voyages were safely made 

Without a single gale ! 

He did not land, but turned about 
For Gotham this time bound; 

It was a flying trip he made. 
For by the clock I found 

It took just half an hour to go 

Across the raging sea, 
And for the rising tide to bring 

My sailor back to me ! 

God grant upon life's voyage when 

Storms come and skies are drear, 
My sailor boy may steer his ship 
From all life's whirlpools clear. 



i8o 



VOLUNTEER. 

Yes, of course the Volunteer won, 
Pray how could it otherwise be? 

She needed no gale 

To fill out her sail 
To race with the Thistle, you see. 

I think it is certainly true 

That thistles should remain on land ; 

They're not aquatic, 

And not erratic. 
And were meant on the ground to stand. 

Then let the bonny Scotchman name 
Their boats more appropriately ; 

For it is a trick, 

A thistle will stick 
Wherever it happens to be. 



i8i 



VOLUNTEER. 



We are young as a nation now, 
Yet already our place is made; 
And whate'er the breeze, 
Or where'er the seas, 
America is not afraid. 

For, our center board's true as steel. 
To our nation or yacht applied. 
And the cup we'll keep. 
While opponents weep, 
As o'er the Atlantic they glide. 



182 



SOME OF MY GENEALOGY, 

First John and Priscilla of Mayflower fame. 
Who wedded in Plymouth soon after they came; 
They settled in Duxbury and th' records declare 
Eleven boys and girls in their love had a share. 
Next, Joseph, their son, who in Bridgewater dwelt, 
A fanner because 'twas his duty he felt ; 
Mary Simmons he wedded, was happy they say 
And six sons and daughters lent joy to their day. 
Deacon Joseph, their son, lived in Bridgewater, too, 
Esteemed in the church where he found much to do ; 
Hannah Dunham of Plymouth he took for his bride, 
Their ten boys and girls added much to their pride. 
Th' Deacon's son, Samuel, lived in Titicut, Mass., 
And successfully wooed Captain Edson's bright lass 
Abiah by name, and their home came to hold 
Nine bright boys and girls by the records we're told. 
Next Josiah, their son, who moved quite "out west," 
And settled in Ludlow, as that place he liked best; 
Then, fair Bathsheba Jones of Raynham he wed. 
And nine boys and girls brought them joy it is said. 
Their daughter Abiah, two dozen years old, 
Benjamin Winchester wedded so we are told. 
Three sons and a daughter to their household came, 
Ere Death the grim monarch the mother did claim. 



183 



SOME OF MY GENEALOGY. 



Their son, Hosea, my grandfather and thine, 
Wed John Robbins's daughter the fair EmeHne ; 
Two children they had, one thy mother and mine 
Who bore Hke her mother the name Emeline. 
Henry Adams she married, three daughters had they, 
JMyra, Gertrude and Elsie which comes to our day 
The ninth generation from the Mayflower time, 
To make easy remembrance I've put all in rhyme. 



184 



CASTLES. 

As I sat before the fender 
Building castles in the air, 

Came a fairy teasing-, tempting 
Me from out my easy chair. 

Nearer, nearer came the darling 
Gliding softly to my side; 

As I stretched my arms to grasp her 
"No, you don't," she sweetly cried. 

Then I said : "I'm of? to napping. 
Don't you bother me, so there — 

You have spoiled my fairy visions 
That were floating in mid air." 

"Papa's cross," — I heard her musing, 
"Don't you think so kitty, say, 

To be making ugly castles 
That so quickly fly away" ? 



185 



CASTLES. 



"When we build our castles kitty 
They'll be tall and grand and high, 

And we would not be surprised 
If they reached up to the sky." 

Thus I listened, nearly dozing, 
To the baby on the floor ; 

And to conscience's gentle ra|) tap 
Till I could not bear it more. 

Then I took my darling loved one 
In my arms and tossed her high, 

Till she said with eyes asparkle : — 
"I'm your castle in the sky," 



i86 



TRUDY. 

"You can see her any clay 
At the Library," they say, 
If you'll walk around that way; 
And her name it should be May, 
Though 'tis Trudy I hear say, 
Trudy Hepburn Flyaway. 
I wish that I had power, — 
To paint her in a bower, — 
Bubbling o'er with winsome glee, 
With her heart so light and free, 
I would pose her lips to speak; 
And I'd tint her lily cheek 
With the soft blush of the rose ; 
And her dainty little nose 
I would paint with care and skill, 
Then with buds her lap Td fill. 
I would tangle up her hair 
Make it fall about her there. 
Like a halo, like a crown, 
Fairest lassie in the town. 
"You can see her any day 
At the Library," they say. 



187 



TRUDY. 



Any day at half past four. 
Poring over fairy lore ; 
Drinking sunshine, sipping dew, 
Half believing fairies true ; 
Weaving fancies passing fleet 
That make ev'ry moment sweet. 
Ev'ry one who knows concedes 
She is quiet when she reads, 
Then she is demure I'm told 
Though she is but twelve years old ; 
But the rest of ev'ry day 
She is Trudy Flyaway, 
Winsome, happy, laughing, gay, 
My young neighbor Flyaway. 



188 




"Poring over fairy lore." 



MOVING DAY. 

How children love a moving day! 

They clap their hands in glee, 
And putting heads together say: — 

"Now, then, what shall we be? 

Oh, yes, we'll all be gipsy men, 

The stove's a buffalo. 
Mamma won't care, how things look when 

It's moving day, you know ! 

The chairs we'll place to form a tent; 

A shawl our roof shall be; 
Our fire, will not require a vent 

If not a flame you see. 

It's only just a make believe 

Of sticks and paper red; 
A fire would cause mamma to grieve. 

And may be make us dead." 

The children all love moving day, 

In it but joy they see, 
Oh, would we were as blithe as they, 

With hearts as lig^ht and free. 



189 



THE JOLLY GROCER. 

There was a jolly grocer-man 

Who lived in Newark town, 
And to some little folks he was 

A man of great renown. 
He was good natured, always kind, 

And any one could see, 
That his customers, ranged in years, 

From three to eighty-three. 
He had the goodies in his store 

In view upon a shelf, 
He kept them there, I'm thinking, just 

To tempt some little elf. 
He had cookies, cakes and candies, 

Nuts, citron, figs and spice, 
Grapes, maple sugar, raisins, prunes 

And other things as nice. 
Oh, many, many, many times, 

In days long, long ago. 
We tried to keep our pennies but 

They burned our pockets so, 
We had to take them down the street 

And leave them at the store. 
Where the jolly grocer met us 

All smiling at the door ! 



190 



THE WIND STORM. 

Down, down came the torrents of splashing rain, 

With a whirl and mighty hurrying force, 
And the gusty wind kissed the window pane, 

Fining the chimney with its sad remorse ; 
Like a school-boy loudly it cried "boo-hoo" 

And then it crept through the tall reeds sighing ; 
Till you would have thought all it had to do, 

Was to keep dear little children crying. 

Around, around, hastening up and down. 

Then forward and back, as in the lancers, 
First here and then there, all over the town 

Glides Mister Wind, the chief king of dancers; 
His voice as sad as Love's is when weeping, 

He acts in his play like a gay coquette ; 
Yon swaying poplar awakes the sleeping, 

For the wind is wild and the night is wet. 

Rattle, rattle goes the shutter and door, 

"Let me come in," cries the wind in the air, 

"Long has it been since I came here before. 
Surely this time you must grant me my prayer ; 



191 



THE WIND STORM. 



Else the green goblins while you are sleeping, 
I'll send in the next gust to haunt your rest ; 

From ev'ry shadow you'll see them peeping, 
From the chimney comer and oaken chest." 

Rushing, rushing, with wild splashing and roar! 

Is the ocean mad, I should like to know, 
The breakers that hiss as they rush ashore, 

To-night are as white as heaven-sent snow ; 
Sorrow enough you've wrought in your rushing, 

No rest shall you find in my home to-night, 
For many ships and true hearts you're crushing, 

Go, with your "goblins" and threatening might 



103 




cq 






THE WAIF. 

Of what shall I write, of sorrow or care. 
Of misery keen oft bringing despair, 
Of hearts a-weary, or of waves that sigh 
As they rush on the shore, then fade and die 
Of their own force, like a summer day's dream ? 
Oh, tell me, I pray, what shall be my theme ! 

I know. I wonder I ne'er thought before 
Of the babe, that sat by the open door 
Of the cottage "Brier" over the way. 
Where I watched him playing many a day ; 
Bright was his hair as the sun in the skies, 
Blue were his eyes that looked up in surprise. 

This poor little waif was left at their door 

One cold winter's night, when work it was o'er, 

For no one loved him and nobody cared 

It seemed, how this bit of a mortal fared. 

But its pitiful cry a mother heard, 

And promptly responded without a word. 

She took baby in and nursed it with care. 
Loved it, cherished it, said many a prayer 
For the babe, but hoped as the days passed by, 
To take her darling not a one would try ; 
For she and her household all loved the child. 
The neighbors as well rejoiced when he smiled. 



193- 



THE WAIF. 

The years passed silently, swiftly away, 

The babe grew rosy, "the mother" more gray, 

Till He who guided the child to her door, 

Summoned her home to eternity's shore; 

Then the child grew restless and would not play, 

Nor laugh in the sunshine, from day to day ; 

But crept to her grave and softly he cried, 

Till the wee heart broke and "Our Sunshine" died, 

Where his aching heart had a vigil kept, 

There the neighbors found him and thought he slept, 

But the joyous light of his clear blue eyes 

Had faded forever from earthly skies. 



194 




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THE SLEIGH RIDE. 

Jingle ! Jingle ! Jingle ! 

Hear the merry sleigh-bells ring, 
Jingle! Jingle! Jingle! 

Do you hear the children sing. 
They are off for a frolic, 

They are off for a ride. 
They are packed close together 

In the sleigh side by side. 

Jingle ! Jingle ! Jingle ! 

Full of joy and glee they glide. 
Jingle ! Jingle ! Jingle ! 

They have not a thought beside, 
They are off from their lessons, 

They are off for the day. 
They are leaving all their books 

And their tasks far away. 

Jingle ! Jingle ! Jingle ! 

Hear the trumpet's long-drawn blast, 
Jingle ! Jingle ! Jingle ! 

As they rush and hurry past, 
Good-by, dear little light hearts, 

Good-by, dear hearts so gay. 
When next you go sleigh-riding 

I hope you'll pass my way. 



195 



THE SLEIGH RIOE. 



Jingle! Jingle! Jingle! 

They're returning, I declare! 
Jingle! Jingle! Jingle! 

Sounds upon the evening air: 
They've checks as red as roses, 

And eyes like stars at nig^l, 
Oh! I think I never saw 

One-half so fair a sight. 



196 



CHANGE. 

I said to a sunbeam : — "Oh, come let us play, 
But the sunbeam it danced and glided away ! 
I said to the wind : — "You rollicking rover, 
You have kissed the rose and tumbled the clover, 
Sing me a melody, I pray you, just one ;" 
But at its beginning he cried : — "I am done." 
Then I said to a brook : — "You mischievous elf 
Why do you keep singing so much to yourself? 
You are always rippling and running away, 
Oh, I beg you one moment, with me, to stay ! 
But it only gurgled and bubbled the more 
And left me as puzzled as ever before. 
Next, I said to the stars with their twinkling light, 
"What joke are you glistening over to-night ? 
You seem to be always so full of your glee, 
Pretty stars, pretty stars please tell it to me. 
But blinking and winking they gently went out. 
And I know not yet what their glee was about; 
In turn to each season, I cried in despair : — 
"Oh, spring days, oh, June days and autumn so fair. 



197 



CHANGE. 



Why do al! tilings change and our loved pass away ?'' 
Then winter made answer in this Httle lay: — 
"The child that is laughing and singing in play, 
The sunbeam so bright as it flitteth away; 
The wind and the brook, the stars and the flower 
They every one change with each fleeting hour. 
The dear ones you love, they must fade, too, and die. 
While time speedeth onward with never a sigh; 
Change marks her deep furrows on ever}' brow, 
I know not just why, nor just when, nor just how; 
God planned every change though ever so small, 
So I know it is best change cometh to all." 
I listened again for stern winter to sing, 
And, lo! while I waited, again it was spring. 



To8 



APPLE BLOSSOMS. 

Buy my blossoms, buy my blossoms, 

Apple blossoms sweet and rare. 
You can wear them or can give them 

To your own dear lady fair ; 
But be sure they are not faded, 

For, my mother says, that g^ief 
Always comes, if to a lady 

One gives drooping bud or leaf. 
These, I promise, will not wither, 

But my blossoms, buy to-day, 
They will make a dainty chaplet 

For your lady, buy them pray! 



199 



MY DOLLY. 

Sometimes I play at hide and seek 

As happy as can be ; 
Sometimes I hold my waxen doll 

That is so dear to me. 
Sometimes I sing a lullaby 

If she begins to fret, 
Then smooth her hair and fix her gown 

And call her "my sweet pet." 
She has long curls and big blue eyes 

A dimple in each cheek, 
And when I call her pretty names 

I think that she will speak. 
Her eyes will open and will close, 

I sing her oft to sleep, 
But never do I scold her for 

I would not have her weep. 
Sometimes I play at hide and seek 

As happy as can be ; 
But better yet I love to hold 

My dolly Esther Lee. 



200 




'But better yet I love to hold 
My dolly Esther Lee." 



NEW YEAR SONG. 

Now, one and all, 

Fair maidens tall, 
Ye lassies gay and smiling, 

L«t's trip in glee. 

With steps so free. 
Our hearts with joy beguiling; 

There's none sad nigh, 

To make us sigh, 
The hour is one of pleasure, 

The music sweet, 

Makes life complete. 
Oh, New Year, fairest treasure. 

Oh, darling lad. 

So newly clad, 
Your steps are light and prancing, 

The world is fair. 

Now, look you there. 
Come lead us in our dancing ; 

With holly, bay. 

This gladsome day, 
We crown you at the portal. 

With welcome song, 

And shouts full long. 
Oh, New Year, fairest mortal. 



20X 



NEW YEAR SONG. 



Let sweet notes still, 

Our beings thrill, 
As all our joy we're telling, 

May the power 

Of a glad hour 
Within our hearts be dwelling; 

Trip, trip with glee, 

Light-hearted, free, 
New Year knows naught of sorrow ; 

His smiling face. 

May some day trace, 
The tears we will not borrow. 



THE END. 



202 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



018 604 368 6 M 



